Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1913-10-02


wheat belt, evidently in western
Kansas.)
Blazing skies, temperature Of one
hundred and ten degrees. wind rae
ing over yellow wheat fields like a
furnace breath, the motor car fol-
lowed by clouds of dust as It faced
the westering .sun-it was no day
for Joy riding, in the middle west.
The Spectator. longed for the cool
breezes OF the hills-yet two days
away, with more wide stretches OF
plain between.
"What strange corn!" exclaimed
one Of the party. "It's yellow!" :
The field we were approaching
was reach of leafless stalks. The
plants looked somehow as If they
had been scalped. But stranger
than that was the yellow OF the cane
like growth, the even rows cover
ing more than a hundred acres. AZ
the car drew nearer the cause was
apparent. To every stalk hung
scores, maybe hundreds, OF grass
hoDpers, clinging one over another,
sucking the very life out Of the
plant, feeding on its substance, eat
ing their way into the heart Of the
maize.
Somehow 1t was pathetic, as II
the corn, which few days before
had held so much promise OF wealth
and usefulness, was being murdered
in cruelty and pain. Into the motor
car the grasshoppers flew by the
dozen; they bit ones hands, crashed
against the motor goggles, and be-
came a nauseating plague on ones
clothing. The radiator front was
spotted by the saffron creatures
which had plunged head first into
the machine.
The sun-baked town down in a
valley seemed deserted as we enter
ed the mainland only-street. But
when the car halted a little crowd
of men and children gathered to
gaze on the visitors.
Looks pretty tough for crops, "
volunteered the Spectator, address,
ing a bespectacled veteran who
might have been the postmaster.
"Going to be hard work getting
through the winter?"
"Oh, we amt suffering" came
the cheerful reply. "It's pretty dry;
no rain since last June, nearly two
months now, and corn is all in.
but nobody's complainin'
But what are you going to live
on?-the corn and grass and fruit
are killed by the drouth!"
That's just the way every strang-
er talks" broke in firm-mouthed,
farmer-like onlooker. you see the
grasshoppers and the dead pastures,
and think we'll starve. You don't |
realize that we westerners have had
hard times before. We was here |
when we didn't raise much of any
hing and we couldn't get anything |
Tor what we did raise. We sold
good horses for thirty dollars and
lows for twenty. Now horses are
worth two hundred and cows seven
y. We have chickens and alfalfa
md our dairies, and there was a
good wheat crop at good prices.
;upposing the corn does fail-we'll
ret along"
IF you have such failures, would
not be better to go farther east,
where conditions are more stable,
han to stay out here on the high
lains? Couldn't you make more in
he end?"
How could we go without becom-
ng laborers? Our land is cheaper
han that OF the older-settled sec
ions. II we sell out, we can't buy
gain. Here we have homes and
ct ahead. There are ten thousand
ersons in this county and they
ave four hundred autos--not ex-
ensive things like yours, but they
an about az well. We don't owe
Iuch. and We have some money IN
le bank There's county high
,ho6l where we send our children,
nd rural delivery, and telephones
1erywhere-didn't you see the poles
ong the road? What more do we
sed to be happy?" F III
It was a long speech, and he
umbled little over it, but he was
ncere and gave evidence of good
'eeding.