Leveling hummocks in dust bowl, thirty miles north of Dalhart, Texas. Farmer: "Every dime I got is tied up right here. If I don't get it out, I've got to drive off and leave it. Where would I go and what would I do? I know what the land did once for me, maybe it will do it again." Son: "It would be better if the sod had never been broke. My father's broke plenty of it. Could I get a job in California?"