THE STORY OF THE NONPABTISAN LEAGUE 



and other equipment they wanted. They 

 bought tractors and gang-plows and seeders; 

 they hired men and ordered supplies, and, in 

 the expressive Northwestern phrase, they tore 

 into the stubble. 



No men ever toiled harder. The tractor 

 and the gang-plow worked incessantly. One 

 of the brothers operated these machines all 

 day and the other all night. With a great 

 search-light mounted on the front of the 

 tractor, night was as good as day for their 

 purposes. 



When they had plowed, harrowed, and 

 planted, they looked forward confidently to 

 profits that should prove their judgment good 

 and sound. They had reason; flax was a 

 staple in the world's list of products. But 

 when the harvest was made they found them- 

 selves ruined. That was the plain fact, 

 though strange enough. Unseasonable weather 

 had something to do with bringing on their 

 misfortune, but not all. The earth had done 

 her part, and they, her unfortunate partners, 

 had done theirs. They had planted and the 

 earth had yielded, but between the harvesting 

 and the marketing a combination gathered 

 around the wheel of fortune at Chicago had 

 driven down the price of flax below the actual 

 cost of production. The partners owed for 

 their machinery, for their living expenses, for 

 money they had borrowed on various accounts. 



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