"Шервуд Андерсен. Белый бедняк (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

In a receptacle at the top of the machine had been placed some dozens of
tiny plants no larger than pins. When the clockwork was started and the
strings pulled to imitate applied horse power, the machine crept slowly
forward, an arm came down and made a hole in the ground, the plant dropped
into the hole and spoon-like hands appeared and packed the earth about the
plant roots. At the top of the machine there was a tank filled with water,
and when the plant was set, a portion of water, nicely calculated as to
quantity, ran down a pipe and was deposited at the plant roots.

Evening after evening the machine crawled forward across the tiny field,
setting the plants in perfect order. Steve Hunter busied himself with it;
he did nothing else; and rumors of a great company to be formed in Bidwell
to manufacture the device were whispered about. Every evening a new tale
was told. Steve went to Cleveland for a day and it was said that Bidwell
was to lose its chance, that big moneyed men had induced Steve to take his
factory project to the city. Hearing Ed Hall berate a farmer who doubted
the practicability of the machine, Steve took him aside and talked to him.
"We're going to need live young men who know how to handle other men for
jobs as superintendent and things like that," he said. "I make no promises.
I only want to tell you that I like live young fellows who can see the hole
in a bushel basket. I like that kind. I like to see them get up in the
world."

Steve heard the farmers continually expressing their skepticism about
making the plants that had been set by the machine grow into maturity, and
had the carpenter build another tiny field in a side window of the store.
He had the machine moved and plants set in the new field. He let these
grow. When some of the plants showed signs of dying he came secretly at
night and replaced them with sturdier shoots so that the miniature field
showed always a brave, vigorous front to the world.

Bidwell became convinced that the most rigorous of all forms of human labor
practiced by its people was at an end. Steve made and had hung in the store
window a large sheet showing the relative cost of planting an acre of
cabbage with the machine, and by what was already called "the old way," by
hand. Then he formally announced that a stock company would be formed in
Bidwell and that every one would have a chance to get into it. He printed
an article in the weekly paper in which he said that many offers had come
to him to take his project to the city or to other and larger towns.
"Mr. McVey, the celebrated inventor, and I both want to stick to our own
people," he said, regardless of the fact that Hugh knew nothing of the
article and had never been taken into the lives of the people addressed.
A day was set for the beginning of the taking of stock subscriptions, and
in private conversations Steve whispered of huge profits to be made. The
matter was talked over in every household and plans were made for raising
money to buy stock. John Clark agreed to lend a certain percentage on the
value of the town property and Steve secured a long-time option on all the
land facing Turner's Pike clear down to Pickleville. When the town heard
of this it was filled with wonder. "Gee," the loiterers before the store
exclaimed, "old Bidwell is going to grow up. Now look at that, will you?