ones," Mr. Wombold answered. "I contend that any farmer to-day who has
no land of his own, proves by his lack of it that he is an inefficient
farmer."

"On the contrary," spoke up Dar Hyal, weaving his slender Asiatic
fingers in the air to emphasize his remarks. "Quite on the contrary.
Times have changed. Efficiency no longer implies the possession of
capital. It is a splendid experiment, an heroic experiment. And it
will succeed."

"What is it, Dick?" Graham urged. "Tell us."

"Oh, nothing, just a white chip on the table," Forrest answered
lightly. "Most likely it will never come to anything, although just
the same I have my hopes--"

"A white chip!" Wombold broke in. "Five thousand acres of prime valley
land, all for a lot of failures to batten on, to farm, if you please,
on salary, with food thrown in!"

"The food that is grown on the land only," Dick corrected. "Now I will
have to put it straight. I've set aside five thousand acres midway
between here and the Sacramento River."

"Think of the alfalfa it grew, and that you need," Wombold again
interrupted.

"My dredgers redeemed twice that acreage from the marshes in the past
year," Dick replied. "The thing is, I believe the West and the world
must come to intensive farming. I want to do my share toward blazing