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"And the chickens," added his uncle.
"Why, did you buy some chickens, Uncle Joe?"
"Yes, that confounded John White made me buy nearly everything on the place. I bought fifty single-comb white Leghorn pullets and three c.o.c.kerels. Also ten white Plymouth Rock pullets and one c.o.c.kerel, also an incubator and brooder. The chickens," added his uncle, "are for your Aunt Bettie. Since you're going to build a new hen house I thought we'd better get some good chickens."
Bob was so excited now that he left the table and rushed up to his room to get out the farm bulletins that showed the best types of hen houses. When he returned his uncle and his grandfather were busily talking.
"Joe," remarked his father, "I'm afraid you're getting in pretty deep with John White putting these notions into your head about modern farming. Don't forget you owe me $2000.00 on the farm, which, with all the other things you've bought, you must be terribly in debt."
"I was afraid you'd feel that way about it, father, and I told White so," he replied.
"He probably don't care, as long as he was getting you to borrow his money and sign his notes," said his father.
"That's where you do him an injustice, father," replied his son. "He said the first thing I should do would be to pay you off, and as it don't make any difference whether I pay interest to you or the bank, he loaned me enough money to pay you off, so the next time we go to town we'll fix the matter up. I told John White if I went broke he'd be the one to suffer."
"What did he say?" asked his father.
"He only laughed and said, 'I'll take a chance on you, Joe, since I've met the woman you're going to marry and that boy you've got on the farm. If the pair of them don't make you "git up and git," then I'll miss my guess.'"
"H'm," sniffed his mother, "it's little that Betsy Atwood knows about farming, with her high-fangled New England notions and Farm Bulletin Education. H'm!"
"Now, mother," said her son, "people aren't living on farms any more the way they used to. Farms must be made attractive and work must be made easy, if people are to live on them. That's why you're leaving yourself."
"n.o.body ever accused me before, Joe Williams, of not doing my share of work. Your father and I toiled all our lives and this is how much you appreciate it."
"But I tell you, mother, farmers aren't satisfied to get along in the same way they used to. The farmer is human and wants comforts and pleasures in life just as well as anybody else, and I'm beginning to believe that John White was right when he made me buy an automobile to-day."
"What!" almost shouted his mother. "Joe Williams, you've gone plumb crazy. John White has bewitched you!"
"No, he hasn't, mother. I knew you'd feel that way when I told you about it, and that's one reason I want to pay you off first, so you won't lose anything if I fail."
"Whatever induced you to buy an automobile, Joe?" asked his father, while Bob sat staring, unable to believe his ears.
"Well, it was like this: On the way back from the sale he said, 'Now, Joe, this ought to give you a pretty good equipment by the time you get your new buildings put up."
"What! Is he suggesting new buildings?" demanded his mother. "As if the buildings we used aren't good enough for our children." "It was like this," Joe continued, ignoring the interruption; "as we were driving back in the car, he said, 'Now, Joe, I want you to remember you're marrying a young woman who has been accustomed to going about a bit, and will have to get away from the farm occasionally in order to be happy, and you've one of the most enthusiastic boys on your farm I've ever met, but his enthusiasm will not keep up if he's to be tied down tight. What you need is an automobile, so you can go to church, and in the evening, when your work is done, you can go for a drive, or run in and see the movies. I don't mind telling you there are two reasons why I'm recommending this car to you. First, I want you to find out for yourself what miserable roads there are in this county and why they should be paved with concrete. Second, I want you to make it so pleasant on the farm for your wife, and later for your children, that they'll always want to stay there--for we must keep our boys and girls on the farm if this country is to prosper. The trouble has been farmers have not realized the old saying, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." That's why the farms are deserted. There's one restriction, though, I'm going to place on you, and that is that the car is never to be run during working hours, except such as your wife might use it to drive to market, and the car must be sheltered in a building and kept clean. I don't want to ever see you drive in to town with a car all covered with mud. Now, if you're willing to do that, I'll advance you enough money so you'll have a complete outfit.'"
"Well, I suppose you signed up for it," said his mother hopelessly.
"Yes," laughed her son. "I thought I might as well take the automobile along with the other things, mother."
"H'm!" sniffed his mother. "Joe Williams, I'll give you six months until the sheriff sells you out. I never thought I'd raise a son who would turn out to be such a fool," and she burst into tears.
"Now, now, mother, you're all wrong in this matter," said her son, going over and taking her in his arms. "I'm not doing this simply because I love Betsy Atwood but because it's good business, and, besides, I want to make her life pleasant. It's the modern idea, mother; it's the right way to do, and I think John White is right. The reason farmers' boys and girls refuse to stay on the old farm is on account of the few amus.e.m.e.nts they get. Don't you worry about the sheriff selling me out, for if I live I can easily make a go of it, and if I should die suddenly, I've a $10,000.00 life insurance policy in the Farmers' Mutual that will pay off the mortgage and leave something for Bettie besides. Of course, it cost something to take out a policy of $10,000.00; everything of value costs, but an insurance policy that pays off the mortgage, if I happen to die, relieves me of all worry. It would have been a risk without insurance, but I feel safe now."
IX
POWER AND BANKING
Everything was hustle and bustle on the farm on Monday morning, March twenty-seventh, for this was to be Joe Williams' wedding day.
Bob was up at daylight, milked his cows and finished his ch.o.r.es before breakfast. At nine o'clock his Uncle Joe and grandparents left for town, where they would take the ten o'clock train to Greensburg, where the wedding was to be solemnized at noon.
As previously arranged, Bob stayed on the farm to look after things and finish plowing the ten-acre field adjoining the barn, which had been started two days before. It was scarcely nine-thirty when he turned and started back along the north side of the field. He glanced in the direction of the barn and beheld an unusual sight. A small automobile had been driven into the barnyard and close behind it came the most unusual looking piece of machinery he had ever seen. He stopped his team and stood leaning on the plow, wondering what it might be. The driver of the automobile, whom he recognized as John White, president of the First National Bank, jumped from the car and opened the gate of the field in which Bob was plowing and a moment later the machine entered. It crossed the ground he had already plowed on the west side of the field and entered the furrow; then swung around with its side toward him. He now recognized the apparatus--it was a tractor gang plow, and as it went along, he saw it was throwing up three furrows at a time. As he watched it go he could not help noticing how much faster it moved than his team of horses was capable of doing. He was so lost in admiration of the speed and ease with which the plow did its work that he did not notice the banker coming toward him until he stood beside him.
"Well, what do you think of that, Bob, for a plow?" asked the banker laughing.
"Some plow, Mr. White," said Bob, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his sandy hair, while he still kept his gaze riveted on the tractor which now turned the southeast corner and started up on the east side of the field.
"Better turn your team out of the furrow, Bob," advised the banker, "and let the tractor get ahead of you. I want you to follow it around the field, so you can see how much faster it travels than your team."
Bob had scarcely turned his team out before the tractor came up opposite them, and with a wave of the hand and a cheery good morning, the operator of the machine went by the admiring boy and the smiling banker.
"Now get your team in behind him, Bob, and see if you can catch him,"
said the banker.
Bob had not gone more than a few rods before it became evident to him that his team would never overtake the fast-moving tractor. In, fact, before he had gone half the distance, the tractor was up behind him again on the second round, so he turned his team out again to let it go by. This time, however, the operator brought the machine to a stop and said:
"Come over and have a look at her, young man."
"This is Mr. Patterson, of the Farmers' Harvester Company, Bob, with their latest model tractor plow. Show him how to operate it, Patterson," said Mr. White, "and then let him take it around the field himself."
"Oh, but I couldn't run a piece of machinery like that," protested Bob.
"Sure you can. That's why we brought it out here," said the banker.
"Oh, no, I'm sure it would be too complicated for me," protested Bob.
"That's where you are mistaken," said the agent, jumping down from the operator's seat. "Come here and I'll explain the mechanism to you in a few minutes."
After he had finished, he turned to Bob and said:
"This thing is so simple, it'll run itself, except at the corners, where you'll have to operate it to turn."
"How do you mean, run itself?" asked the unbelieving boy.
"Well, I'll show you," said the agent, as he adjusted one or two of the levers, and, much to Bob's astonishment, the tractor set off down the field by itself.
"Why, how do you do that?" he asked, staring open-mouthed after the disappearing tractor.
"Come down to the corner and I'll show you," said the agent.
"But I can't leave the team," said Bob.
"Oh, I'll take care of the team," said the banker laughing. "You go down and operate the plow."