The Brown Family in California 



By JASON BROWN 



CHAPTER SIXTEEN 



HOW WK FARMERS CLUBBED TOGETHER ON A POWER PROPOSITION. 



NE afternoon in August I went up to our little creamery. You 

 remember, there were eight of us in the venture. I found Robert, 

 black as the ace of spades with grease and dust, tinkering away 

 with the gasoline engine. 



"Well, papa, here's a go," he cried. "But it don't go, and 

 I don't know what to do." 



"Won't it run, Robert?" 



"No, sir; I can't make it go. I guess the carbureter needs fixinV 



If there is anything that exasperates a dairyman it is to have a delay 

 in the working of the cream separator. So I went to work and for two 

 hours tinkered on the old-fashioned engine. At length we heard the rattle 

 of wheels on the road, the gate clicked loudly as it was swung shut, a hearty 

 voice shouted "Whoa, boy," and William Simpson made his genial appear- 

 ance just as I had concluded to go to Kinney's Corners for a brand new car- 

 bureter. 



"What we want to do, Jason, is to put in a little power plant, use some 

 of this water that's going to waste down the hill," said Simpson, when I 

 had explained that the present difficulty, which he could see for himself, was 

 but the repetition of a series of minor catastrophes along the same order 

 which had occurred almost from the time we had first established the 

 creamery. 



"A power plant?" I asked. 



"Yes," said Simpson, "a power plant. I suppose the very words 

 'power plant' is enough to frighten seven-eighths of the farmers you spring 

 it on. They think it's a new-fashioned notion that involves great expense. 

 In thinking of a power plant every one naturally thinks of the great plants 

 where the force of water is converted into electrical energy and thousands 

 of horse-power is transmitted to distant cities to run street cars and the 

 like." 



"Is there enough water?" 



"Yes, indeed, there is, Jason," said Simpson, enthusiastically. "We 

 can put in a plant up there in the canyon about six miles. There's a con- 

 tinuous fall of water and we would have a head of 600 feet of water. I've 

 talked with one of the engineers in the city and I believe we can develop 

 something like 400 horse-power at a cost of $6000. Say we get twelve 

 farmers together and have them put in $500 apiece. There's your $6000 

 right there. That 400 horse-power will be sufficient to light every farm 

 around here, to run the creamery, to bale hay and thresh grain, and do a 

 thousand and one things that electricity will do on the farm." 



"But $500 cash is quite a sum of money just at this time. I don't 

 know whether I could raise that amount," I interposed. 



"Well, Jason, there are more ways of killing a cat than hanging him," 

 said William Simpson. "For instance, these twelve farmers can only hold 

 two-thirds of the interest and the holders of the remaining third will receive 

 interest on their investment through the sale of electrical energy at Kin- 

 neys Corners. Then the entire sum does not have to be all paid down. Sup- 

 pose we each rake up $250 cash and pay the rest on time. I'm sure such 

 an amount would not be prohibitive as far as you or any of the rest of us are 

 concerned." 



Simpson always talks loudly when he is in earnest and as he was wav- 

 ing his arms and explaining the matter in his forceful, genial way, my wife 

 came to the door of the creamery. 



"Mercy me," cried Ellen. "Here we have a lot of capitalists. But tell 



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