AMONG THE OIL WELLS
"Did you see those fellows?" exclaimed Randy, after the automobile truck
had rumbled out of sight.
"I did," answered Jack. "They were Tate and Jackson."
"Can they be going up to the Lorimer Spell claim?" exclaimed Fred.
"It's possible."
"I don't think they saw us," put in Andy, lacing up his shoe again.
"No, they didn't seem to look this way at all. And, anyhow, they were
too busy talking to notice," answered Jack.
The four Rovers continued on their way, following the automobile.
Occasionally they met other automobiles, as well as wagons, some piled
high with oil-drilling machinery. Then they came to a place where a pipe
line was being constructed.
"We are certainly in the oil fields," announced Jack. "See all the
derricks in the distance?"
Being-good walkers, it did not take the boys long to reach the Spell
tract of land. To make sure that they had found the right spot, they
asked an old teamster who was at the roadside mending a harness.
"Yes, that's Lorimer Spell's ground--or at least it was his ground
before he was killed. There is the old shack just as he left it."
The boys walked over to the house, which stood among some low bushes. It
was a dilapidated structure, and had evidently been out of repair for
several years. Most of the windows were gone, and the front door stood
wide open. As was to be expected, the four rooms the house contained
were empty save for some straw on the floor and a pile of half-burnt
sticks on the open hearth.
"Some thieves must have come along and taken whatever there was of
furniture," observed Jack.
"Yes, and somebody has been using it for a place to bunk in," added
Fred. "But I don't believe they have been here within the last few
days," he added, with a look at the ashes on the hearth.
From the house the boys proceeded to look around the farm, or ranch, if
such it might be called. It was irregular in shape, one corner running
over a hill and down towards a small brook. Here, to their surprise,
they saw a pile of oil-drilling machinery, and a number of posts had
been set up. On one of the posts was a placard reading:
_The Carson Davenport Claim. Keep off._
"What do you know about this!" cried Jack, his eyes blazing.
"Let's knock the sign down," suggested Fred quickly.
"No, we won't do that--at least not yet, Fred. We'll wait until my
father comes with those papers from Wichita Falls."
In the soft soil they could see numerous tracks of automobiles and
wagons which had passed that way. One of these tracks was fresh.
"I'll bet that auto with Tate and Jackson was here just before we came!"
cried Randy. "Those fellows are certainly on the job. They probably
believe that 'possession is nine points of the law.'"
"And it may be down here," said Jack, his face clouding. "The
authorities haven't things under their control in a wild country like
this as they have in and around the big cities."
There were no oil wells near the Spell tract, and to get to the nearest
the lads had to tramp over another hill, a distance of more than a
quarter of a mile. Here they found several wells in operation, the
combined flow of which, they were told, amounted to about four hundred
barrels per day.
"Not so bad, when you consider this oil is worth about two dollars and a
half a barrel," remarked Jack.
"That makes a thousand dollars a day," returned Fred. "Gee, just think
of taking in that much every twenty-four hours!"
The boys were told that another well was to be shot off that afternoon.
This was located about half a mile away, and they resolved to visit the
place, first, however, stopping by the roadside for lunch. They were
told where they could get a drink of water.
"Phew! how it smells of oil," remarked Randy, turning up his nose at the
dose.
"I guess we'll get our fill of oil before we get through, Randy,"
laughed Jack. "Some of these neighborhoods are saturated with oil from
end to end. The houses and barns are full of it, and so are the roads,
and they tell me even the things in the dining-rooms and bedrooms smell
of oil."
"And just see how black the stuff is," declared Fred. "It doesn't look
one bit like the oil we are used to using. It certainly needs a lot of
refining."
"And just think of the hundred and one things that come from it," said
Jack. "Kerosene and gasoline, and benzine and naphtha and paraffin, and
I don't know what all."
The middle of the afternoon found them at the place where the new well
was to be brought in--that is, provided everything went well, the the
head workman told them, with a grin. He was a good-natured Irishman with
body and clothing saturated with oil from head to foot.
"'Tis not a noice way av makin' a livin'," he announced. "But 'tis clane
money one gits in his pocket."
"Yes, and you haven't got to stay here forever," answered Jack, with a
smile. "After you've made your pile you can go to some place more
agreeable."
"Sure, an' that's true, Son, so 'tis," said the foreman.
He explained to them how the well had been drilled and how the charges
had been lowered. They had tested out the well at eighteen hundred feet,
but without success. Now they were down twenty-six hundred feet, and the
indications for oil were decidedly good.
At length came the moment for shooting off the well. Some of the
woodwork surrounding the derrick had been removed, and all the electric
connections were pronounced in good working order. Then the boys and the
others who had assembled were ordered back to a safe distance.
It was a thrilling moment, and no one felt it more than the four Rovers.
They waited a few minutes, and then came a dull rumble, shaking the
ground as if by an earthquake. Then they saw something shoot skyward,
and then came a sudden rain of black oil, flying and spattering in all
directions.
"They've struck it! They've struck it!" yelled Andy excitedly. "They've
struck oil!"
"Gee, but I'll bet that makes them feel good," announced Fred. "That
well must have cost a lot of money."
"Forty thousand dollars, the foreman said," came from Jack. "Come on,
let us get back unless we want our clothing ruined." For the wind was
shifting and sending a fine spray of oil in their direction.
It was hard work to control the flow of oil, and the men around the new
well had to work like Trojans. The black mass was flowing off in a
depression of the ground which had been dammed around to receive it.
"It certainly is a great proceeding," was Fred's comment, when they
finally turned away and started on their return to Columbina. "I don't
wonder that those men get interested. It certainly is the greatest
gamble of the age. One minute you have nothing, and the next, if you are
lucky, the oil is pouring thousands of dollars into your pocket every
week."
"It's the land of luck, all right enough," answered Fred.
"And you mustn't forget one thing," added Jack. "There are just as many
failures as there are successes. There have been millions and millions
of dollars sunk in Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas, and some promoters
haven't got even a smell of oil for their money."
When the lads returned to the hotel they found that several letters had
come in for them. One was from Jack's sister, and this he read with
interest, and then passed it around to his cousins to peruse.
In her letter Martha wrote that she had heard from Ruth Stevenson's
mother, who stated that Ruth's eyes were not in as good shape as the
local doctor had hoped for and he had advised that a specialist be
consulted.
"Gee, that's the worst yet!" said Jack, and his face showed his concern.
"Poor Ruth! I do hope she comes out of it all right, and that very
soon."
Both Jack and the others would have been more concerned had they known
the truth, which was that Ruth had already been placed in the care of an
eye specialist and been removed to that physician's private sanitarium.
Pressed to tell the exact truth by Mr. Stevenson, the specialist had
admitted that Ruth's eyes had suffered exceedingly, and that she was in
danger of losing the sight of one of them and that that might possibly
affect the other. As Mrs. Stevenson was very nervous already, the doctor
had advised her husband to keep the truth to himself for the present and
hope for the best.
Among the other letters received was one forwarded by Mary to her
brother Fred. This was from Gif Garrison, and in the communication Gif
told how he had heard in a roundabout way of Nappy and Slugger.
* * * * *
"It seems that there was once a man named Davenport in business with Mr.
Martell," wrote Gif. "This Davenport is now down in the oil fields of
Texas, and he has agreed, so I understand, to give Nappy and Slugger a
chance to work for a company he has formed. So they are likely down
there, and maybe you will meet them. They also say that Glutts and
Werner used to correspond with Nappy and Slugger, so that it is just
possible they will go down there too."
"Well, Glutts isn't here," said Fred, with a grin. "I guess that mix-up
in New York was too much for him."
"If those fellows want to work for Carson Davenport they can do so,"
said Jack. "But they've got to keep their distance--Werner especially."
Late that evening there came a telegram for Jack. It was from his
father, announcing the fact that he would have to remain in Wichita
Falls for a day or two.
"Perhaps he's got to fix up some legal matters in connection with this
Spell claim," suggested Fred.
There was not much to interest the boys around Columbina, and the next
day hung rather heavily on their hands. They visited the general stores
and also walked over to the depot and watched two of the trains come in.
They saw Carson Davenport alight from one and hurry away as rapidly as
possible, carrying a Gladstone bag with him.
"Hello! I wonder if he has been to Wichita Falls too," cried Jack.
"He certainly came from that direction," answered Fred. "But you must
remember there are lots of other towns along the line."
The following afternoon found the four boys on a highway leading from
Columbina to Derrickville. They had fallen in with an old oil prospector
who knew Nick Ogilvie well, and this prospector had offered to take them
over to Derrickville in his five-passenger touring-car.
"It's a great sight around Derrickville," said the man. "There are
hundreds of oil wells in that vicinity. It's about the busiest place for
miles around."
Warned by their previous experience, the boys had purchased some
overalls and plain caps, and these they donned to protect their other
clothing. They found the road to Derrickville deep in mud, and more than
once it looked as if the car in which they were riding would get stuck.
But Mr. Bradley was a good driver, and always managed somehow to get
through.
"It ain't like driving on Broadway," he grinned, "but we've got to make
the best of it."
Two hours later found the Rovers in Derrickville. They were left to
shift for themselves, Mr. Bradley stating he would take them back to
Columbina at five o'clock. They visited a dozen wells or more, and also
the pumping station connected with a large pipe line, and then walked
over to where the drilling of some new wells was in progress.
"Look!" shouted Fred suddenly. "Look! Am I mistaken, or is that Phil
Franklin over there?"
He pointed to a distance, and then he and the others hurried to the
spot. There, looking at the work which was going on around a new well,
were the man and the boy they had once rescued from the freshet on the
Rick Rack River.