ose they actually cost him
forty cents. A hundred and sixty times twelve hundred... let me see...
twelve times nought is nought and twelve times sixteen is a hundred and
ninety-two... a hundred and ninety-two thousand sacks at a dollar and a
quarter net... four into a hundred and ninety-two is forty-eight, plus,
is two hundred and forty--there you are, two hundred and forty thousand
dollars clear profit on that year's deal."

"An' him a Chink," Billy mourned disconsolately. He turned to Saxon.
"They ought to be some new country for us white folks to go to.
Gosh!--we're settin' on the stoop all right, all right."

"But, of course, that was unusual," Glunston hastened to qualify. "There
was a failure of potatoes in other districts, and a corner, and in some
strange way Sing Kee was dead on. He never made profits like that again.
But he goes ahead steadily. Last year he had four thousand acres in
potatoes, a thousand in asparagus, five hundred in celery and five
hundred in beans. And he's running six hundred acres in seeds. No matter
what happens to one or two crops, he can't lose on all of them."

"I've seen twelve thousand acres of apple trees," Saxon said. "And I'd
like to see four thousand acres in potatoes."

"And we will," Billy rejoined with great positiveness. "It's us for the
San Joaquin. We don't know what's in our country. No wonder we're out on
the stoop."

"You'll find lots of kings up there," Gunston related. "Yep Hong
Lee--they call him 'Big Jim,' and Ah Pock, and Ah Whang, and--then
there's Shima, the Japanese potato king. He's worth several millions.
Lives like a prince."

"Why don't Americans succeed like that?" asked Saxon.

"Because they won't, I guess. There's nothing to stop them except
themselves. I'll tell you one thing, though--give me the Chinese to deal
with. He's honest. His word is as good as his bond. If he says he'll
do a thing, he'll do it. And, anyway, the white man doesn't know how
to farm. Even the up-to-date white farmer is content with one crop at a
time and rotation of crops. Mr. John Chinaman goes him one better, and
grows two crops at one time on the same soil. I've seen it--radishes and
carrots, two crops, sown at one time."

"Which don't stand to reason," Billy objected. "They'd be only a half
crop of each."

"Another guess coming," Gunston jeered. "Carrots have to be thinned when
they're so far along. So do radishes. But carrots grow slow. Radishes
grow fast. The slow-g