In August the great war had broke in Europe.

Ships were rushing with war supplies, blockades declared, factories
shut down. The American stock exchanges had closed to save a panic.
Buying and selling almost ceased. Money scuttled to the cover of
safety vaults, and the price of cotton had dropped and dropped until
finally it ceased to sell at all.

"It is going to bankrupt almost every grower in the valley," remarked
Bob. "I'm certainly sorry for the Chandlers. They're up against it
hard."

"As the poet says," Noah Ezekiel drew down the corners of his mouth,
pulling a long face, "ain't life real?"

Bob laughed in spite of troubles. "Noah, I believe you'd joke at your
own funeral."

"Why shouldn't I?" said Noah. "You joked with your undertaker's
receipt." He grinned at the recollection of that event. "You sure
broke that yellow dog Jenkins from suckin' eggs--temporarily."

"But ain't he stuck with his leases though. If I had as much money as
he owes, I could fix these gamblers at the Red Owl so they wouldn't
have to work any for the rest of their natural lives."

"Noah," Bob turned to his faithful foreman, "I want you to stick until
we put this thing through. I'll see you don't lose a dollar."

"Don't you worry about me sticking," said Noah Ezekiel. "I never quit
a man as long as he owes me anything."

The loyalty of the hill billy touched Rogeen, but as is the way of men,
he covered it up with a brusque tone.

"You get the sacks ready. I'm going in to town and raise the money
somehow to pick this cotton. I'll pick it if I never get a dollar out
of it--can't bear to see a crop like that go to waste."

The cotton-gin people were in a desperate panic, but Bob went after
them hard:

"Now see here, that war in Europe is not going to end the world; and as
long as the world stands there will be a demand for cotton. This
flurry will pass, and there's sure to be a big jump in the market for
cotton seed. The war will increase the demand for oils of all kinds.

"That cotton has got to be picked, and you'll have to furnish the
money. When it is ginned you can certainly borrow five cents a pound
on it. That will pay for the water and the lease, the picking and the
ginning--and the duty, too.

"Now you get the money for me to pick my field and Chandler's field.
They owe only $600 on the crop; so you'll be even safer there than with
me. We'll leave the cotton with you as security. And then after