Might say here that another tenant the previous year had asked for, and received a reduction. The man had sold his corn. He patted his pants pocket, and told me, “I’ve got the money all in here. They’ll have to settle my way, or not at all.” He was entitled to a reduction and I was sure Mr. Smith would do the right thing. And he did. I said to the tenant, “If you should lose that money we would have no chance to collect anything. Put your money back in the bank where it will be safe. If anything comes up, I’ll notify you in time for you to get it out before attempting to force a collection.” He said, “On your word, I’ll do that. Can’t sleep very well with the money in my britches, anyway.” This man was Albert W. Dixon. Don’t care to name the other fellow. This rather unusual incident got “noised” around, and the tenant:—the farmer with the “crippled” horse—being what he was, thought he might just as well do a little more gouging. Mr. Smith said to me, “Make that fellow pay in full—and get rid of him.” Still Mr. Reckeway was not satisfied. Having failed in his efforts to block the building of the west elevator, he now began a play to get control of it. And, finally, he did get it. During a grain dealers meeting at the Byram hotel in Atchison, Frank Crowell told me that my competitor was still after my “goat”—that Mr. Reckeway had just renewed his offer to give them all his shipments, if he could get control of the west elevator. I said, “For heaven’s sake, let him have it—if it means anything to you?” Please note that Mr. Crowell and Mr. Baker were my sponsors. They would not let me down. Reckeway closed the west elevator. When the new crop began to come in, I resumed track buying. I could have forgiven Mr. Reckeway for trying to squeeze me out—but now I would have to show him how badly he had been misled by his promoters, when he told the Greenleaf-Baker people that I was a “dead duck.”