The Farmers' Commercial Association, a "combination in restraint of trade" which was well protected by the fear-inspiring farmer vote, met monthly, and Wallingford ran in to the meetings as often as he could, though there was no need to sustain their enthusiasm; for not only was the plan one of such tremendous scope as to compel admiration, but Nature and circumstances both were kind. There came the usual early rumors of a drought in Kansas, of over-much rotting rain in the Dakotas, of the green bug in Oklahoma, of foreign wars and domestic disturbances, and these things were good for the price of wheat, as they were exaggerated upon the floors of the great boards of trade in Chicago and New York. Through these causes alone September wheat climbed from eighty-seven to ninety, to ninety-five, to a dollar, to a dollar-five; but in the latter part of July there came a new and an unexpected factor. Dollar-and-a-half wheat had been the continuous slogan of the Farmers' Commercial Association, and every issue of the _Commercial Farmer_ had dwelt upon the glorious day when that should be made the standard price. Now, in the mid-July issue, the idea was driven home and the entire first page was given up to a great, flaming advertisement: HOLD YOUR WHEAT! SEPTEMBER WHEAT WILL GO TO $1.50! DON'T SELL A BUSHEL OF IT FOR LESS! The result was widespread and instantaneous. In Oklahoma a small farmer drove up to the elevator and asked: "What's wheat worth to-day?" "A dollar, even," was the answer. "This is all you get from me at that price," said the farmer, "and you wouldn't get this if I didn't need fifty dollars to-day. Take it in." "Think wheat's going higher?" asked the buyer. "Higher! It's going to a dollar and a half," boasted the farmer. "I got twelve hundred bushels at home, and nobody gets it for a cent less than eighteen hundred dollars." "You'd better see a doctor before you drive back," advised the elevator man, laughing. Over in Kansas at one of the big collecting centers the telephone bell rang. "What's cash wheat worth to-day?" "Dollar-one." "A dollar-one! I'll hold mine a while." "Better take this price while you can get it," advised the shipper. "Big crop this year." "A dollar and a half's the price," responded the farmer on the other end of the wire. "Who is this?" asked the shipper. "J. W. Harkness." The man rubbed his chin. Harkness owned five hundred acres of the best wheat land in Kansas.