"That must have come from the Richmond land agent," he said. "Someone else was telling me that story a short time ago. The fact is one of those real estate agents was out here last spring and he asked me if I would consider an offer of fifty dollars an acre for our land. I told him that I didn't think that I would as long as any one who wishes to buy can get all the land he wants in this section for five or ten dollars an acre. That's as near as I came to having an offer of fifty dollars an acre for this land. The land adjoining me on the south is is for sale, and I am sure you could buy that farm of about seven hundred acres for four dollars an acre after they get the timber off. Some of the land has not been cropped for a hundred years, I guess; and there are a few trees on it that are big enough for light saw-stuff. A man has bought the timber that is worth cutting, and he is running a saw over there now; but he'll get out all that's good for anything in a few months."
"May I ask how long you have been farming here, Mr. Thornton?"
"Twelve years on this farm," he replied. "You see this estate was left to my wife and her sister who still lives with us. We were married twelve years ago and I have been working ever since to make a living for us on this old worn-out farm. Of course I have made some little improvements about the barns, but we've sold a little land too. The railroad company wanted about an acre down where that little stream crosses, for a water supply, and I got twelve hundred dollars for that."
"Now, I've already taken too much of your time," said Percy. "I thank you for your kindness in giving me so much information. If there is no objection I shall be glad to take a walk about over your farm and the adjoining land, and perhaps I can see you again for a few moments when I return."
"Certainly," Mr. Thornton replied. "There is no objection whatsoever. We are going to Blairville this morning, but we shall be back before noon and I shall be glad to see you then. I fear you have been given some misinformation by the real estate agents. Some of them, by the way, are Northern men who came down here and bought land and when they found they could not make a living on it, they sold it to other land hunters, and I suppose that they made so much in the deal that they stayed right here as real estate agents. They are great advertisers; but I reckon our Southern real estate men can just about keep even. The agent who was out here last spring told me he showed one Northern man a farm for $12 an acre and he was afraid to buy. Then he took him into another county and showed him a poorer farm for $45 and he bought that at once.
"The road there runs out through the fields. Our land runs back to the other public road and beyond that is the farm I told you of where the saw mill is running. I've got some pretty good cowpeas you'll pass by. I haven't got them off the racks yet."
Percy found the cowpea hay piled in large shocks over tripods made of short stout poles which served to keep the hay off the ground to some extent, and this permitted the cowpeas to be cured in larger piles and with less danger of loss from molding.
"I find that the soil on your farm and on the other farm is very generally acid," said Percy a few hours later when Mr. Thornton asked what he thought of the condititons of farming. "Have you used any lime for improving the soil?"
"Yes, I tried it about ten years ago, and it helped some, but not enough to make it pay. I put ten barrels on about three acres. I thought it helped the corn and wheat a little, and it showed right to the line where I put cowpeas on the land, but I don't think it paid, and it's mighty disagreeable stuff to handle."
"Do you remember how much it cost?" Percy asked.