RECKLESS DRIVING
THE THREE visitors exchanged glances. It was evident that they did not
especially welcome the suggestion. Like many business men, they had the
idea that inventors were a sort of dreamy impractical race, not keen at
bargaining and easy to beguile in a business deal.
Still they could not decently object to a thing so obviously correct,
and after a mere instant of hesitation, Thompson made a virtue of
necessity.
“We should be delighted,” he said suavely.
Tom took up the telephone that rested on a table near his hand and
called up the plant.
“Mr. Newton,” he announced to the operator. “Hello. That you, Ned? Come
right over, will you? I’m telephoning from the house. Some gentlemen are
here with a business proposition and I want you here to confer with us.
All right.”
“And while we’re about it,” remarked Tom, as he put down the telephone,
“I’ll have my father in, if you don’t mind. He’s something of an
invalid, but he’ll be of great help in discussing the proposition.”
Thompson assented with the slightest touch of vexation, immediately
repressed, and Tom called through the window to Rad to summon his
father.
They talked on indifferent matters for a few minutes until Mr. Swift and
Ned arrived.
“Now, Mr. Thompson,” said Tom, after introductions had taken place and
they had settled back in their chairs.
“As I stated,” resumed Thompson, “my partners and I are interested in
having some special oil-well machinery manufactured. We have recently
returned from a trip to Texas, where we have been investigating the oil
situation. I can’t be more specific just now as to the exact location we
have fixed upon for our venture for reasons that you can easily
understand. We do not care to have any one know where it is, for
although we have secured a large number of leases on property in the
vicinity there are still more that we are negotiating for, and we do not
care for competition. We think we have struck a rich field. At any rate,
we are confident enough to make a try for it, although it involves a
large outlay of capital. We want to get the material manufactured
beforehand and shipped all at the same time so that it will be only a
matter of setting up the machinery and starting the work. If you can do
the work within a stipulated time and if your prices are right, we may
be able to come to an agreement. But we would want you to cut your
figures to the bone.”
“You can depend upon us treating you fairly in the matter of price,” put
in Tom, and Ned nodded assent.
“Here,” said Thompson, taking up several sheets covered with figures and
diagrams, “are the specifications of what we think we shall need;
tubing, casings, drills, bits and the rest. They differ in some respects
from those commonly in use, but we think they represent the most
up-to-date inventions and improvements.”
“Of course,” put in Bragden, “if in the course of their manufacture you
can improve on them we shall be glad to have you do so. Any new idea
that comes to you we shall welcome. But, of course, that will not affect
the conditions of the contract we may make with you.”
“Oh, yes it will,” said Tom drily. “Our contract will cover only the
manufacture in exact conformity to the stipulations. If I invent
anything better, the invention will belong to me.”
“I don’t see why,” growled Hankinshaw. “It seems to me that all your
brains and time belong to us while you are working on the contract.”
His tone and manner were offensive, but Tom restrained his resentment
and answered quietly.
“You’re mistaken there,” he replied. “You will see that if you look up
the law on patents.”
“That’s all right,” said Thompson soothingly. “What we are especially
interested in now is the time in which you can do this and the figure at
which you can do it.”
“I think we can satisfy you in both particulars,” replied Tom, as he
looked over the plans. “We have the plant and the machinery for turning
out all the implements you have down here. But, of course, in a thing of
this kind we can’t answer offhand. We’ll have to figure out labor and
material costs, overhead and other items before we can name a definite
figure. Suppose you leave these papers with us, and by to-morrow night
we’ll be prepared to give you our terms. How will that do?”
“That’s satisfactory,” replied Mr. Thompson, after a moment’s conference
with his colleagues. “Shall we see you here or at our hotel?”
“Perhaps we’d better meet in the office of the plant,” suggested Tom.
“Then we can show you over the factory and let you get an idea of our
facilities.”
“Good idea,” assented Thompson, and, rising, he and his companions took
their departure.
“Bless my bank account!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, after the visitors had
gone. “I think I’ve let you in for a good thing, Tom, my boy.”
“It may be so,” replied Tom reflectively, “and I’m very much obliged to
you. By the way, Mr. Damon, what do you know about these men? Are they
straight? Are they financially reliable?”
“Bless my responsibility!” was the reply. “As far as I know they’re all
right. Thompson is the only one I know, and that but slightly; but my
impression is that he has slathers of money. They’ve got to have some
money or they wouldn’t be able to lease those oil lands they were
telling us about.”
“Of course, that doesn’t mean such an outlay as it may seem on the
surface,” said Ned thoughtfully. “They can lease all the farmland they
want at a dollar an acre. The farmer is perfectly willing to let it go
for that, for he wins any way. If oil isn’t found on his land he still
has his property, and the dollar an acre is pure velvet. If it is found,
he is allowed by law a royalty of one-eighth of the profit from the well
or wells.”
“How do you come to know so much about it?” asked Tom, in some surprise.
“I thought that your head was so full of figures that you didn’t have
much time for anything else. Haven’t been investing in oil stocks, have
you?” he added laughingly.
“Not exactly,” answered Ned. “But you can’t take up the papers nowadays
without finding a lot about oil in them. There was a time when cotton
was king. A little later steel was king. But to-day oil is king. Who’s
the richest man in the world to-day? An oil man. What’s at the bottom of
half the squabbles between nations nowadays? The fight for the
possession of oil fields. England wants control of the oil fields in
Persia and Mesopotamia. The Dutch are shutting out all foreigners from
the Djambi fields. Soviet Russia expects to get enough money from her
oil-well concessions to run the Government. So it goes all over the
world. Oil is king. Look at the demand for it. See how automobiles are
being manufactured by the millions. See how it has taken the place of
coal for fuel in our own battleships and the great ocean liners. See how
the great office buildings in various cities are using it in place of
coal.”
“There’s millions in it, eh?” laughed Tom.
“Billions, trillions,” corrected Ned. “But now let’s get down to brass
tacks and look over these specifications. Something tells me that we’ve
got to watch our step in dealing with these men. Of course, they may be
all right at that, but——” and he left his sentence unfinished.
“I don’t care much for that fellow Hankinshaw for a fact,” remarked Tom.
“Once or twice I’d have liked to throw him out of the room.”
“He a little bit more than annoyed me, too,” assented Ned. “I wish he’d
get another brand of tobacco.”
“Bless my appetite!” remarked Mr. Damon, as he looked at his watch.
“I’ll be late for dinner and let myself in for a scolding. So long,
folks,” and with a hurried handshake he was off.
Left to themselves, Tom, his father, and Ned put their heads together in
close study of the specifications for the oil-well machinery. Although
Mr. Swift had not been physically strong for years, his mind was as keen
as ever and he was of invaluable service to the others, both of whom
valued his opinion highly.
They sat long in conference, which was interrupted by dinner, to which
Ned stayed. After the meal another hour of discussion ensued, at the end
of which they had a pretty clear idea of the terms they would offer to
the oil prospectors. There were some details left for Ned to look up on
the following day, including an investigation as to the financial
standing of the oil men, but the main features of their offer were
practically settled.
“Well, that’s that,” remarked Tom, as Ned rose to go. “Wait a minute,
Ned, and I’ll get out the car and drop you at your house. I’m going up
your way, anyhow.”
“Yes,” said Ned drily, as he looked out of the window. “I notice that
it’s a beautiful moonlight night. And I remember that Mary Nestor lives
on the same street just a little way beyond our house.”
“What an acute mind you have,” laughed Tom. “I’d hate to have you on my
trail if I’d committed a crime. Come along now and don’t be envious.”
It is possible that Mary Nestor had noticed too that it was a beautiful
moonlight night and barely possible that the thought had occurred to her
that a certain young inventor might happen along that way. What is
certain is that she was dressed most becomingly, that her cheeks had a
pink flush in them, and that her eyes were uncommonly bright as she
opened the door in response to his ring.
“Why, Tom, what a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“It’s too fine a night to be indoors, Mary,” said Tom, as he held her
hand a little longer than was absolutely necessary. “What do you say to
a spin along the lake road? Just for an hour or so.”
“I’ll be glad to,” answered Mary. “Come into the living room and see
father and mother for a moment while I get my hat on.”
She ushered him into the room and then ran upstairs while Tom greeted
her parents. He was a great favorite with them, and they welcomed him
warmly. They chatted together for a few minutes until Mary came down.
Then, with a promise not to be gone too long, the young people went out
to the car.
The moonlight flooded the roads, making them almost as bright as in the
day. There was just a light breeze that blew little wisps of hair about
Mary’s face in a way that made her seem more bewitching than ever. It
was a night when it was good to be young and to be alive.
“On such a night——” murmured Tom, as the car purred smoothly along.
“Going to quote Shakespeare?” inquired Mary mischievously.
“Not exactly,” laughed Tom. “Mary,” he said, “listen. I——”
But what he wanted Mary to listen to could not be told at the moment,
for just then a big touring car came plunging around a bend in the road
and came tearing down toward them.