"I mean cattle ranching, on a big scale, and near enough centres of civilization to make life worth while, is bound to pass. Its place will be taken by agriculture and horticulture."
"Not in the South," stated Kenneth, confidently repeating statements he had heard on the quail hunt. "It's been tried, and it doesn't work except here and there on a small scale."
"Because it hasn't been tried right. Everything's been attempted on a big scale, even on a small farm. The idea has been to plant the largest number of acres possible so as to make a killing in the wet season. In dry seasons they argue they won't get anything anyhow. Result is a sort of scratch harrowing, shallow cultivation. But it's not true that in a dry season you'll get nothing, if you do proper work. And this scheme ignores the half and half years. It's shiftless. Men get used to thinking in the immense acreage of the cattle ranches and they bite off more than they can chew. Why, many don't touch the land after planting it. The crops are fouled with wild oats and mustard and such things, and so are reduced. These so-called farmers do not care for small profits. It's all or nothing with them. They are never self sustaining. They scorn to plant vegetables and such things as they need. If they'd do less but better they'd find the South would grow things all right. Why, they don't even know where their best land is."
"In the bottomlands," stated Kenneth, promptly.
"That is what they think—and you're wrong. It's rich and wet enough to grow crops without irrigation, and all that; but it's just common farming, and acre for acre it will not match that land right out there."
Kenneth stared.
"You mean that dry sagebrush, or the sand wash?" he asked, incredulously.
"Both. Properly cultivated and irrigated, they will grow more valuable crops of more valuable things than your bottomland. I have proved it on a small scale to my own satisfaction."
He went on to elucidate what was then a revolutionary idea, becoming almost animated in his interest. Kenneth listened at first sceptically; soon with growing conviction.
"You come up again," Brainerd invited him, finally, "and
