The Conquest: The Story of a Negro PioneerMicheaux, Oscar
General
The Conquest: The Story of a Negro Pioneer
Micheaux, Oscar
African American pioneers -- Fiction; Autobiographical fiction; South Dakota -- Fiction; Western stories
My flax on the sod, which was too small to be hurt at the beginning of
the drouth, began to need rain, and reports in all daily papers told
that the great heat wave and the drouth in many places were worse than
in Tipp county. All over the western and northern part of the state,
were localities where it had not rained that season. Potatoes, wheat,
oats, flax, and corn, in the western part of the state, had not
sprouted, and, it was said, in a part of Butte county, where seed had
been sown four inches deep the year before, there had not been enough
rain since to make it sprout.
The government had spent several million dollars damming the Belle
Fourche river for the purpose of irrigation, and the previous autumn,
when it had been completed, the water in it had been run onto the land,
to see how it would work, and since had been dry. No snow had fallen in
the mountains during the winter, and all the rivers were as dry as the
roads; while all the way from the gulf, to Canada, the now protracted
drouth was burning everything in its wake.
At Kansas City, where the treacherous Kaw empties its waters into the
Missouri, and had for years wrought disaster with its notorious floods,
drowning out two and sometimes three crops in a single spring, was
nearly dry, and the crops were drying up throughout its valley.
I spent the Fourth of July in Victor, where the people shook their heads
gravely and said, "Tipp county will never raise a crop." The crops had
dried up in Tipp county the year before. I read that the railroad men
who run from Kansas City to Dodge City reported that the pastures
through Kansas were so dry along the route, that a louse could be seen
crawling a half mile away. In parts of Iowa the farmers commenced to put
their stock in pens and fed them hay from about the middle of June,
there being no feed in the pastures. Through eastern Nebraska, western
Iowa and southern Minnesota, the grasshoppers began to appear by the
millions, and proceeded to head the small grain. To save it, the farmers
cut and fed it to stock, in pens.
[Illustration: The crops began to wither. (page 289.)]
The markets were being over-run with thin cattle from the western
ranges, where the grass had never started on account of lack of
moisture. I watched my flax crop and early in July noticed it
beginning to wilt, then millions of army worms began cutting it down.
On the eleventh I left for Megory county, with my stock, to harvest the
winter wheat there. It had been partially saved by the rain in June. The
two hundred and eighty-five acres of flax was a brown, sickly-looking
mess, and I was badly discouraged, for outside of my family trouble, I
had borrowed my limit at the bank, and the flax seed, breaking, and
other expenses, had amounted to eleven hundred dollars.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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