THE DALE-DUSTIN MYSTERY.
Although Colonel Dale talked thus bravely and cheerfully, he could not
drive away a heavy, sinking feeling from his heart, nor prevent the
furrows in his face from growing deeper and deeper, as he thought of how
much depended upon the result of this experiment that everybody about
him said was such a foolish waste of both time and money.
Still the work was pushed steadily forward. The graceful derrick was run
rapidly up to a height of sixty feet, and a strong iron pulley wheel was
suspended from its crown. On the derrick floor, at one side, the great
bull wheels, about the shaft of which the drill rope was to be wound,
were placed in position. On the opposite side was set the solid samson
post that was to support the equally solid walking beam. The former was
a section of the squared trunk of an oak tree, let deep into the ground;
while the walking beam was a long and very strong oaken timber, nicely
balanced so that it would work readily up and down. To the end of the
walking beam, that reached into the middle of the derrick, were to be
attached the heavy drills; while the other end was connected with the
ten-horse-power engine that stood in a rough shed but a short distance
from the derrick.
Still beyond this, in the open air, was a rusty boiler, with a pipe
discharging into its open furnace door. This pipe led from a small tank
that was filled by the jet of natural gas, discovered by Arthur and his
father; and natural gas was to be the only fuel used in drilling and
operating the Dale-Dustin well.
At length, after a month of hard work and vexatious delays, the
“rig-builders” finished their labors, and the well drillers came in
their place. To Arthur’s great joy, they were headed by his “dear
giant,” Brace Barlow, who, having heard that his little friend was
interested in a new oil well, applied for and obtained the contract for
drilling it. “And Arthur, lad,” he said, after the first warmth of their
greeting was over, “if this well proves a ‘duster,’ it won’t be because
it isn’t drilled fair enough, or deep enough. I’ll keep the temper screw
turning, and the drill going, till we strike something to stop it, if
it’s only an order to quit, or the bottom of the appropriation.”
Brace Barlow brought with him a delightful surprise for Arthur in the
person of his Cousin Cynthia, who, upon Miss Hatty’s invitation, came to
make a visit at Dustin farm. The two children enjoyed each other so
thoroughly that it was a pleasure to see them together. Arthur had so
much to tell and Cynthia so much to hear concerning his wonderful
journey to Dalecourt, and they had so many plans to make for the future,
that the days were not half long enough for them. In the evenings, when
the day’s work was done, Arthur generally sat with Brace Barlow,
listening to his tales of adventure in the oil region, or relating
incidents of the recent journey, in which Brace was fully as much
interested as Cynthia.
Thus the boy discovered how the mysterious five-dollar bill came to be
in his precious book, and Brace learned of what service it had been to
them.
Day after day the powerful drills worked steadily downward through hard
and soft rock, sometimes descending only six or eight feet in
twenty-four hours, but generally cutting through twenty or thirty feet
of material in a day. The first and second sandstones or “sands” were
passed, and at length the drill was down a thousand feet. At this depth
it had not yet reached the third, or oil-bearing, sandstone. Occasional
puffs of gas came up through the casing of iron pipe that was driven
down as fast as a hole was cut to receive it; but there was no sign of
oil.
The work had now been prosecuted for two months, and with the passage of
time, and the rapid melting away of the few remaining dollars of his
fortune, Colonel Dale’s face grew more furrowed and careworn, and,
though he still tried to maintain a brave front, it was evident that
anxiety was telling heavily upon him.
As the opening of a new district has a very decided effect on the oil
market, all brokers who deal in oil or oil stocks are, of course,
anxious to secure the earliest information concerning the prospects of
the first well sunk in it. If this proves to be a dryhole, and the
district is accordingly believed to be barren, the price of oil remains
firm, with a tendency to go up. If, on the other hand, the new well
happens to be a “gusher,” the price of oil immediately drops. In either
case those who receive the earliest reliable information are able to
make their purchases or sales of oil accordingly and reap large profits.
In order to obtain this information some of the leading brokers and oil
companies employ a class of men called “scouts,” whose duty it is to
find out all about new wells, especially those drilled in districts
hitherto unworked, and to report upon their progress and prospects.
These scouts are always bright young fellows, thoroughly posted in all
details of the oil business; and it is almost impossible to keep the
condition of any well a secret from them, even though the owners
undertake to do so.
Now Colonel Dale had determined to reap, for Arthur’s sake, whatever
benefits were to be gained from an early knowledge of the prospects of
the Dale-Dustin well. For this purpose he had engaged the services of a
broker in Oil City, whom he had undertaken to furnish with the very
earliest information regarding it. As the drill neared the depth at
which it was expected to enter the oil-bearing rock, a number of scouts
began to appear on the scene of operations and to visit the well every
day. On the approach of the critical hour that was to decide the fate of
the experiment, these visitors were politely but firmly requested to
keep off the premises, while the derricks and tanks were boarded up, so
that they might not be able to witness the inside operations from a
distance. The drillers were bound to secrecy regarding the progress of
their work, and a guard was stationed about the well, with orders not to
allow any stranger to approach the derrick. Thus the Dale-Dustin well
became a “mystery,” and the scouts were put to their wits’ end to
discover its condition.
They formed a camp among the thick hemlocks, back of the Dustin farm,
and at the nearest point to the well they could reach. Here one or more
of their number remained on watch night and day, with fleet horses
beside them, ready to bear them to the nearest telegraph station with
the first bit of information they should obtain. From this camp a
powerful field glass was always directed toward the new derrick, the
strokes of the walking beam were counted, and every movement of those
who came out of, or went into, the boarded structure was closely
watched.
During the darkness of night the scouts crept closer, and, with many a
narrow escape from the guards, who constantly patrolled the premises,
watched and listened for any chance bit of news that might thus be
gleaned.
At last their patience and perseverance were rewarded, and they gained
the very information for which they had striven so long. A scout, who
had lain concealed in a clump of low bushes beside the derrick, during
the long hours of a dark, stormy night, overheard a remark not intended
for his ears. It furnished a key to the situation; and, slipping away,
still unobserved, to where his horse was fastened, he galloped rapidly
off in the direction of the village.
In the several oil exchanges of the country, the principal item of news
the next morning was that the Dale-Dustin mystery well had proved a dry
hole; and many were the jokes made concerning the Dustin “duster.”