“I’ll drive every advertising sign out of this country.”

“Impossible.  The great corporations who control these industries make their fortunes by this style of advertising.  The rural districts are their strongholds.  And they must advertise or they can’t sell their products.”

“Let them advertise in decent ways, then.  What right has any soap maker to flaunt his wares in my face, whether I’m interested in them or not?”

“The right of custom.  People have submitted to these things so long that the manufacturers consider themselves justified in covering every barn, rock and fence with their signs.  I see no way to stop them.”

“Nor I, at present.  But there must be a way.”

“Drive out one, and another will take his place.  They pay liberally for locations—­”

“Pshaw!  Ten dollars a year for a rock as big as a barn!”

“But they rent thousands of such positions, and in the aggregate our farmers get large sums from them.”

“And ruin the appearance of their homes and farms.”

Mr. Watson smiled.

“They’re not artists, Ken.  They can’t realize on appearances, but they can use the money the signs bring them.”

“They need to be educated, that’s all.  These farmers seem very honest, decent fellows.”

“They are, Ken.  I wish you knew them better.”

“So do I, Mr. Watson.  This campaign ought to bring us closer together, for I mean to get them to help me.”

“You’ll have to buy them, I’m afraid.”

“Not all of them.  There must be some refinement among them.”

But the lawyer was not convinced.  However, it was not his desire to stifle this new-born enthusiasm of Kenneth’s, even though he believed it misdirected.  He wanted the young man to rouse himself and take an interest in life, and if his antagonism to advertising signs would effect this, the futile fight against them was to be welcomed.  It would cost the boy something, but he would gain his money’s worth in experience.

After a few days the sign painter answered the letter.  He would relinquish the three signs in the glen for a payment of fifty dollars each, with the understanding that no other competing signs were to take their place.  Kenneth promptly mailed a check for the amount demanded and early next morning started for the glen with what he called his “eliminators.”

These “eliminators” consisted of two men with cans of turpentine and gasoline and an equipment of scrubbing brushes.  Parsons, the farmer, came over to watch this novel proceeding, happy in the possession of three crisp five-dollar notes given in accordance with the agreement made with him.  All day the two men scrubbed the rocks faithfully, assisted at odd times by their impatient employer; but the thick splashes of paint clung desperately to the rugged surface of the rock, and the task was a hard one.  When evening came the letters had almost disappeared when viewed closely; but when Kenneth rode to the mouth of the glen on his way home and paused to look back, he could see the injunction “Take Smith’s Liver Pills” staring at him, in grim defiance of the scrubbing brushes.