The Golden Ocean

The American Trail. Trail. Blaze in blood. Offended in blood. Chapter six. The Golden Ocean.

Seems to me I can still see the covered wagons. The way they rolled along the Cumberland Road. Head and west. Only when me and Kathy crossed into Illinois. We went alone. Me driving the two horses.

Kathy sittin' beside me on our wagon. wagon, just the two of us. Me and Cathy used to have a piece of land in the Virginia Valley. When we decided to move west, I saddled a horse, went around saying goodbye to my neighbors. There was Cyrus McCormick. His folks had a big farm in the

valley, big enough so they had their own blacksmith shop. That was where Cyrus spent most of each time bending pieces of iron into all kinds of square shapes. You still foolin' around with that contraption, Cyrus?

You'll see. Sit down, Jeff. Use that barrel. I reckon I'm not saying that. Other side are in the picture. You help yourself. We've got time for that, anyhow. Jeff, I think I just got this machine figured out.

I don't ever do a man's work, even if you do get it to run. You do the work of twenty men and a quarter of the time. Jeff, there's a need for this machine. I don't see no need for it.

Listen. I'm going my folks first came to this country. 1743, going on 90 years ago. Oh, what about it? We're still plowing and reaping just the way they did when they first came here. Well, what's wrong with that?

I'll tell you something else. We're still plowing and reaping the way people did 4,000 years ago. There can't be much wrong with it. Oh, Jeff, it looks like you make me tired. Famine ought to be made much easier and quicker.