Chen Jianqiu and Flying Bird stayed here for a while.

They dodged the patrols of the Federation cavalry while surveying the details of the land.

It is indeed a great place to settle down.

Especially on the south bank of the river, it is possible to enclose a ready-made pasture or open up a large area of land for farming.

The Oklahoma Colonial Society has a good eye, but in their plan, the South Shore has been carved up.

"That's it!" Chen Jianqiu stepped on the soft soil on the ground and said.

A group of people left the place after drawing a detailed map of the surroundings.

The day of the opening of the Oklahoma region is getting closer.

And the news of the opening also spread in the east and west through various channels.

More and more people are flocking to the open border areas.

Most of these people are new immigrants.

They did not catch up with the opening of the western lands before.

This is the last chance.

Congress established two land offices in Kansas.

There were more than a dozen land officers there who were in charge of the land registration.

Under the Homestead Act, these U.S. citizens pay a registration fee of $10 to receive up to 160 acres of Western State land.

Of course, if they live or cultivate the land for five years, they can take it for themselves at a cost of $1.25 per acre.

During this time, the threshold of the gate of the land office was broken.

Those who came to register formed a long queue outside the door, and the line was a kilometer long.

However, unlike in the past, this time there were a large number of yellow-skinned faces among the applicants.

"You're a U.S. citizen?"

Behind the desk, the land officer repeatedly checked the identity information handed by a Chinese man on the other side.

He was accompanied by several Federal soldiers with guns to maintain order on the scene and protect the safety of the officer.

"Yes, sir, I was naturalized the year before last."

The Chinese spoke fluent English and spoke mildly.

He was dressed in a cloth coat and the back of his head was bare.

"But as far as I know, after the bill comes out, no Chinese can get U.S. citizenship." The officer's expression was very serious.

"My father was a legal citizen many years ago, I was born in the United States, I pay taxes legally, and I don't steal or rob." The Chinese said calmly.

The clerk is still skeptical.

"What did you do before you came here?" He continued.

"I'm a worker, an oil worker, working at the Roswell refinery, sir." The Chinese replied.

The clerk glanced at the thick calluses on his hands.

He began to examine the document again, trying to find any traces of forgery in it.

Unfortunately, however, this information is genuine and there are no problems.

"Why is it so slow up ahead?!"

"Hey! Can you hurry up! ”

"I've been lining up since yesterday, what a fucking inkblot!"

The people at the back of the line did not move, and began to express their displeasure.

Most of them are red-necked, upright, brutal, and proud of being illiterate.

"Shut up! You hillbillies, if you don't want to register, you can go back now! ”

The federal officers who maintained order yelled at the ranks.

Sure enough, those red necks are more accustomed to this way of communication.

They quickly shut their mouths and returned to their ranks.

However, the affairs officer didn't have the heart to dwell on the identity of the Chinese in front of him anymore.

After charging him a ten-dollar registration fee, the clerk stamped the registration document and handed it to him.

It was not the official authorities who first noticed the appearance of the Chinese.

Rather, it was the people of the colonists' association who squatted near the land office.

This man was a "loser" in the general sense of the word, and he perfectly missed every land allocation in the westward expansion movement of recent years.

Either they didn't rush to the road, or they were taken away by the banks and big landlords.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been reduced to living in a tent in the Colonists' Guild.

Scared of being robbed, he keenly sensed something.

So I rushed to the association's base camp in Arkansas City as soon as possible.

"President, the land registry has found a lot of yellow-skinned Chinese!" He said to Kutch breathlessly.

"Chinese? Didn't you wake up? Where did they get the right to acquire land? Couch was a little unimpressed.

"No, there are a lot of Chinese in Roswell." The pigtailed man knows a little more, "They all seem to have citizenship." ”

He thought about it for a moment and made a suggestion: "Should we talk to their people, I always think these people are organized. ”

When Kuqi heard this, he was a little unhappy:

"What to talk about? We have nearly a thousand heavily armed fighters, heavy weapons, and the support of tens of thousands of people in the association, what is there to talk about with these Chinese? ”

"When the time comes, like those who have not joined the association, as long as they dare to act rashly, they will be cleaned up!"

As soon as the pigtailed man thought about it, he stopped talking and turned around to go out.

Kuchi suddenly remembered that there was still something to be explained, and he shouted at the back of the pigtailed man:

"By the way, don't forget to go to the camp and pull people!"

By camp, Kutch was referring to the state border between Kansas and Oklahoma.

Now it's crowded with people.

Every few kilometres there is a camp made up of tents or rudimentary shacks, where pioneers from all over the country gather.

The caravan was parked everywhere, and it contained all the belongings of the gang.

Even so, they were still uneasy.

Pioneering is a difficult task, and the lack of seeds and farming tools can make what was originally full of hope become hopeless.

"The Oklahoma Colonial Society cordially invites all friends to join! Here, you are no longer alone, we will be your strong backing! ”

The pigtailed man led a few men to the camp on horseback.

He and his assistant jumped off their horses and began handing out the association's printed leaflets to those walking around the camp.

Soon someone became interested in this and came up:

"Is your association serious?" A farmer with a brown beard asked.

The pigtailed man turned his head and glared at him inexplicably: "We now have tens of thousands of association members, what do you say?" ”

"Uh-oh." The bearded man hurriedly asked, "Then is there any benefit to joining the association?" ”

"Of course, joining the association gives you priority to obtaining good land, and you can also get our protection!" The pigtailed man said with certainty.

He gestured to the place on the other side of the state boundary:

"When the time comes, most of the land here will belong to our association."

The bearded man nodded honestly, he hesitated, but still asked:

"Well, then, is there a fee or anything?"

"Yes, a one-time entrance fee of $3 and a one-year membership fee of $2.5 are paid at the time of enrollment." Said a member of the association next to the pigtailed man.

The beard turned around and left.

The $10 registration fee is already a huge amount of money, and now they have to pay $5.5 to join the club, why don't they grab it?

"Huh! $5.5 for the protection of more than a thousand warriors! It's a good deal, okay! ”

The pigtailed man shouted at the back of the bearded man.

There were many peasants who left with them, all of them poor and white proletarians.

"In two weeks, you fools will regret it." Braids said smugly.

However, there are still many people who still have money to spare and are willing to join in, and they gather around the pigtailed man, chattering:

"The best land will be given to us, right?"

"Yes, we have found a piece of fertile land south of the North Carnedine River, as long as you follow us, that land association will share it with everyone!" Braids swore by it.

Just as he was busy painting "Eden" to the new members whose eyes were shining, his assistant suddenly poked him in the arm:

"Tom, what do you think that's that?"

The pigtailed man raised his head and suddenly found that there were still people in the camp "soliciting customers", and they were directly holding signs.

He pronounced the phrase on the sign:

"Farmer supply and marketing cooperatives? What the hell is this? ”