144 Singing Valleys 



Next morning the man was back again. With two sacks. He 

 shook the insects out into the store, very much alive. 

 "Count 'em/' he commanded. 



Despairing of a future in farming in such a country, the 

 colonists called a meeting and discussed plans for using what 

 money remained in the fund for a woolen mill and turning 

 the barren crop lands into sheep ranches. Meeker protested. 

 The battle waged long and bitterly. "Dig deeper ditches," he 

 urged. "Dig more ditches. The water is there in the river. We 

 have only to bring it to the land to make the country bloom." 



Ultimately Meeker and his ditches won over the woolen 

 mill. The ditches were dug, the river came to the land, and the 

 land began to yield. The wheat crop broke a record. The corn 

 filled the granaries and the town's elevator. The clover was a 

 better stand than any yet grown in that country. The potatoes 

 brought high prices in the Denver market. 



And Meeker proved his point. The dry country, when irri- 

 gated, was rich. It would grow food for men and to fatten 

 cattle on the ranges. The colony had but one more enemy, the 

 Indians. There was trouble with the Sioux, especially since 

 the lands from which they had been driven were proved to be 

 valuable. Finally there was guerrilla warfare. After one of the 

 attacks Meeker wrote: 



This stopping plows by bullets is by no means a new thing in 

 America, for, so to speak, the plow has plowed its way from the 

 Atlantic to the heart of the Rocky Mountains, through showers 

 of bullets, and the American plow is yet to turn furrows across 

 China and the steppes of Tartary, and even invert the soil around 

 sacred Jerusalem. SPEED THE PLOW. 



It was Nathan Meeker's last editorial. A few days later, 

 while on business # the White River Agency, he was killed 

 by an Indian. 



Today, in Weld County, Colorado, more than three hun- 

 dred and seventy thousand acres are under irrigation. One- 



