"Five Rovers, and all from New York City," muttered one of the men, and gazed knowingly at his companion.
"Four of them were nothing but kids," returned the other. "It's only the man who counts, and his name seems to be Richard Rover."
"Do you think he is the same Rover?"
"I shouldn't wonder, Tate. That name isn't a common one. However, we had better make sure before we make another move."
Andy and Fred were the first to get through washing up, and then they came downstairs to take a look around before going into the dining-room with the others for supper. They came out on the hotel porch, and were surveying the scene before them when the two men who had inspected the hotel register lounged up to them.
"Well, what do you think of our town?" questioned one of them pleasantly.
"I haven't seen enough of it to form an opinion," answered Fred.
"It will take us a week or two, I suppose, to take in all the sights," came from Andy, with a grin.
"It might take you a week or two if you went on foot through the mud," answered the second man. And then he continued: "I suppose you came from a distance, eh?"
"We came from New York."
"Going to invest in some oil wells, I suppose?" remarked the first man who had spoken, and he smiled broadly.
"That depends on how we find things here," answered Fred. "You see, my uncle is interested in a tract of land they say has oil on it. Of course he'll want to make an investigation before he goes ahead."
"Is that man who is with you your uncle?"
"Yes."
"Is the tract of land he is interested in near here?" questioned the second man.
"I don't know how close it is to this town."
"What's the tract called? If you don't know exactly where it is, perhaps we can help you locate it."
"It's the Lorimer Spell tract," answered Fred innocently. He thought the men were just asking out of idle curiosity.
"Oh, I see." The man frowned and looked at his companion.
"Do you know anything about that tract?"
"Oh, I've heard of it. It's up on the north side of the town. I understand Spell was shot during the war," the man continued, looking at the boys.
"He was," answered Andy. "And he left all his property to my Uncle Dick, who once saved his life."
"Oh, that's it, is it!" cried one of the men. "Seems to me I heard something about that. Your uncle played the regular hero act."
"As I said before, he saved Lorimer Spell's life, and did it at the risk of his own. It was in the midst of one of the fiercest fights."
At this moment Jack and Randy came rushing down the stairs and out on the porch of the hotel in great excitement.
"We just saw somebody up the street!" exclaimed Jack. "And who do you think it was? Gabe Werner!"
"Gabe Werner!"
"Where is he?"
"Up the street," answered Randy. "Come on after him."
"Who's the man you are after?" questioned one of the men who had been interviewing Andy and Fred.
"He's a young fellow who once went to a military academy with us. He's a regular bully and did something for which he ought to be locked up," was Fred's reply, and then he rushed down into the street, following his three cousins.
"How can Gabe Werner be down here?" questioned Andy. "Why, we left him in New York City!"
"I can't help that, Andy. It was Werner just as sure as I am standing here. I just happened to glance out of the window and saw him crossing the roadway. He turned his face straight toward me, and I couldn't help but recognize him."
"Where did he go?"
"I'll point out the place when we get there."
By this time the four Rovers had left the boardwalk and were plowing along on the side of the road through mud that varied from an inch to six inches in depth. They had started to run, but were soon compelled to slow up.
"Gee, this is something fierce!" panted Andy.
"Oh, you cinder path!" chanted his twin. "Wouldn't you like to do a hundred-yard dash on this road?"
"It's not much farther," announced Jack. "I saw him heading for that shack yonder."
The place he mentioned was a small building erected of rough boards, with a galvanized roof. They neared the shack to find two men sitting before it on a log smoking their pipes. They appeared somewhat startled.
"Did a young fellow just pass this way?" questioned Jack quickly.
The two men looked at the Rovers curiously, and then one shook his head.
"Don't think he did, Stranger. I didn't see anybody, did you, Tom?"
"No," was the positive answer.
By the look on their faces Jack felt that the men were not telling the truth. Yet what he was to do he did not know.
"Maybe he went back to that garage," he suggested, pointing to a smaller building in the rear.
"Look around if you think anybody is there," said the first man who had spoken, and the boys hurried down to the garage, which stood open. As they did this one of the men sauntered into the shack.
"Say, what's the meaning of this?" he demanded of Gabe Werner, who stood hiding behind a door.
"I'll tell you as soon as they go away," was the answer of the former bully of Colby Hall. "Don't let them come in here and see me."
"All right, they sha'n't come in," was the man's laconic reply; and then he went outside again, to resume his smoking.
Having walked around the garage and peered inside, the four Rovers walked again to the shack. The man who had just come out of the building leered at them.
"Didn't find the fellow you were after, did you?" he queried.
"No," answered Jack shortly. He did not like the appearance of the man in the least.
"Want to see him particularly?"
"I want to give him a good thrashing—that's what I want to do!" exclaimed Jack. "And after that I might turn him over to the police, if there is any such thing in this town."
"We haven't any police here. We run things to suit ourselves."
"What do you want to lick him for?" questioned the other man.
"He threw pepper in my eyes once, and he's done a lot of other things he oughtn't to have done," returned Jack, and then turned back to the hotel, and his cousins followed.
"Those two men were on the hotel veranda when we first went there," said Randy. "I noticed them, and I did not like their looks at all."
"Do you know what I think?" returned Jack. "I believe Gabe Werner was in that shack all the time. I think he must have seen us coming and given those fellows the tip. They both tried to appear cool, but they were both flustered."
"But what can Gabe Werner be doing in this out-of-the-way place?" demanded Fred.
"He probably came here, Fred, just for the excitement. Hundreds of young fellows have drifted to the oil fields just as years ago they drifted to the gold fields. They gamble in oil stocks and do what they can, trying to strike it rich. It's a great temptation to any fellow who hasn't a well-paying job at home."
"But Gabe Werner ought to be going to school," put in Andy.
"True, Andy. But Gabe himself thinks he is old enough to do as he pleases. Evidently from the way he acts his folks can no longer control him."
When the boys got back to the hotel they found Dick Rover looking for them. He listened in surprise to what they had to say.
"It certainly is odd if that Gabe Werner is here," he said. "And more than likely you are right—otherwise that fellow wouldn't have taken such pains to hide himself. Well, if he is here, you must watch that he doesn't play any more tricks on you."
A fair supper was had at the hotel. During the meal both Fred and Andy noticed that the two men who had questioned them in the hotel office concerning the Lorimer Spell claim were watching their Uncle Dick closely.
"They seem to want to know all about our business," said Fred, when mentioning this to his uncle.
"Oh, that's the case in every oil town or mining camp," answered Dick Rover. "Men are always anxious to get a lead, as they call it, on what is going to happen next. If they think a fellow may strike it rich in some particular location they rush after him like a flock of sheep and try to get claims as close to him as possible."
After the meal was finished the boys took a walk around the town to see how the place looked at night and thinking they might possibly run across Gabe Werner.
The narrow street with the single boardwalk was crowded with people, some well dressed and others in the roughest of costumes. There was loud talking and jesting, and most of the pedestrians seemed to be in good humor, although occasionally they would pass a group evidently out of luck and willing to let everybody know it.
"No more oil fields for me!" they heard one man exclaim, as he lunged past, evidently partly under the influence of liquor. "I've sunk forty-five thousand dollars in wells already, and not a sniff of gas to show for it. I'm through!"
"That's the other side of the picture," remarked Randy. "Evidently he's got rid of every cent he had, and now he's so downhearted he is taking to drink."
"I don't see where he can get it in these days," said Fred.
"Oh, they manage to get it somehow."
The moving picture theater was open, and a crowd was swarming inside. The pictures were old and of a wild Western nature, and none of the lads had any desire to see them. They passed on and looked into the windows of a couple of the general stores, where everything from matches to bedding seemed to be for sale. Then they came to a corner where there was a side street which was little more than an alleyway. Along this were a dozen or more shanties set in anything but a regular row.
On the corner was a flaring banner announcing that here was located the Famous California Chop Suey Restaurant. Behind the small dirty windows ten or fifteen men were eating at half a dozen tables covered with oilcloth.
"Look!" exclaimed Fred, pointing in through the open door of the restaurant. "There are those same men who were at our hotel. Evidently they can't be stopping there—or at least they don't eat there."
"Isn't it queer that they should hang around our hotel and then come down here for a meal?" remarked Randy.
"They're talking to another man—somebody who wasn't at our hotel," said Fred. "Just see how excited they seem to be!" he added quickly, after one of the men drew a paper from his pocket and all of them bent over it with interest.
Then the stranger of the crowd began to talk to the others very earnestly.
"Let us walk down the alleyway, and perhaps we can find out something about those men," suggested Jack. "You say they asked about Lorimer Spell and his claim? They may know something that my dad would like to find out."
"All right," said Fred.
The four Rovers turned the corner of the restaurant and walked slowly down the alleyway along a narrow cinder path. This path ran close to the side of the building, and here were located several small windows, one of them close to where stood the table at which the men inside were seated.
"It's a mighty good thing that we ran across those Rovers the very day they came in," one of the men was saying. "If it hadn't been for that they might have gone up to the Lorimer Spell claim and done something that would queer the whole thing."
"Oh, I don't think they could do that, Tate," returned the man whom the lads had not seen before. "You know at the best Spell's claim on the land was not perfectly clear."
"Well, that's how you look at it, Davenport," said another of the men. "You must remember, Lorimer Spell had a good many friends in this neighborhood. Of course he was a queer Dick and all that sort of thing, but in spite of that folks here would want to have Spell's wishes in this matter upheld."
"Oh, I know we run some risk," returned the man called Davenport. "But I think the stake is worth it."
"To be sure it is!" came from one of the others.
"The question is," came from the man named Tate, "how are we going to get at it? Do you think you'll be able to see the documents this man Rover must carry?"
"Of course I'll see them. I'll get at them some way," returned Carson Davenport firmly. He was a large-built man, with coal-black eyes and black hair and his face had a rather cruel expression.
"Somebody said that Lorimer Spell placed his valuables in some safe deposit vault," went on one of the men. "In that case, this Richard Rover wouldn't have them."
"I don't see why not," said another. "If he became Spell's heir he would have a right to do anything, and the bank would have to give the documents up."
More talk of a like nature followed, and the Rover boys listened with keen interest to every word that was said. They recognized in Carson Davenport the man who had written to Jack's father hoping to get the latter interested in some fake oil companies, trusting that The Rover Company in New York City would be able to dispose of the worthless stocks to their customers—people who trusted them implicitly in all their financial transactions. While these negotiations were going on Jake Tate, Davenport's right-hand man, had learned that Lorimer Spell was dead and that he had made Dick Rover his sole heir. This was at a time when Tate and Davenport, as well as the other men, were trying to get possession of the Spell land, feeling sure that there was oil on it. They had been on the point of communicating with Dick Rover, thinking they might get the claim away from him, when he had surprised the whole crowd by his unexpected appearance in Columbina.
"We've got to have quick action in this," declared Jake Tate. "The longer we delay the worse off we'll be."
"Yes, but you've got to find out about those papers first," said one of the other men, lighting a cigar.
"You leave me to do that," said Carson Davenport. "I'm sure I know exactly how to handle this man Rover."
"He must be a pretty shrewd fellow, Davenport. Otherwise he wouldn't be holding such an important position in that Wall Street company," remarked Tate.
"I've handled men like that before. You leave it to me."
"But you don't want him to suspect anything is off color," said one of the other men.
"I'm not so green, Jackson. I wasn't born yesterday."
"Didn't you say you thought this Rover had a lot of money?"
"Yes, the whole family has money. But, at the same time, that has nothing to do with it. I'll tell you what I propose to do," continued Carson Davenport earnestly. "I'll wait until I am sure that he——"
This was as much as the Rover boys heard for the time being. Around the corner of the building from the main street had come three figures. They had been abreast, but now they approached on the cinder path in single file. As they came closer the lights from the restaurant fell on their faces, and to their intense surprise the four Rovers recognized Gabe Werner, Nappy Martell, and Slugger Brown.
The surprise on both sides was equal, and for a moment neither the Rovers nor those in the other crowd uttered a word.
"What are you doing here, Jack Rover?" demanded Nappy Martell at length, as he scowled at the youth and his cousins.
"I might ask the same question of you, Nappy," was Jack's return.
"Did you come here from that detention camp?" questioned Fred.
"That's none of your business," retorted Slugger Brown.
"You got away from us this afternoon, Gabe Werner, but you're not going to do it this time," continued Jack, and caught the rascal by the arm.
"Hi! you let go of me," howled the bully roughly, and shoved Jack back against the building.
At this Randy leaped forward and also caught hold of Werner. Nappy Martell and Slugger Brown were about to jump in to the assistance of their friend when Fred and Andy interfered.
"You leave them alone," ordered Fred, with flashing eyes. "He's one of the meanest fellows in the world. He threw pepper in Jack's eyes and in the eyes of Ruth Stevenson."
The loud talking so close to a window of the restaurant attracted the attention of the men inside, and the fellow named Jake Tate thrust his head out to see what was going on.
"Say, what do you know about this?" he exclaimed, turning to his companions. "Those four young Rovers are out here right by the window!"
"You don't say so!" burst out Carson Davenport.
"If they are by this window maybe they were spying on us," put in the man named Jackson.
In the meanwhile there was something of a fight going on outside. Gabe Werner had tried to break away, and then launched a blow at Jack, who returned by hitting him a crack in the jaw.
"See here, you leave Werner alone!" blustered Slugger Brown.
"You keep out of this, Slugger!" cried Jack, and then, as Werner hit out a second time, Jack dodged and the bully's fist struck the side of the building, skinning several of his knuckles. Then Jack landed a blow with all the force he could command on Werner's left ear, and the rascal went down on the cinder path and rolled over into the roadway.
By this time the men in the restaurant had run outside and were coming up.
"What's the rumpus here?" demanded Jake Tate, pushing his way through the crowd of boys. He was a burly individual, and could at times put on a most aggressive manner.
"We caught these four fellows right by this window," declared Nappy Martell, with a sharp look first at Tate and then at Davenport.
"It looked to us as though they might be spying on you," added Slugger Brown, and he too gave Davenport a peculiar look.
"Spying on us, eh?" muttered the oil company promoter in anything but a pleasant manner. "Fine piece of business to be in!"
By this time Gabe Werner had rolled over and gotten to his feet. But instead of coming at Jack again, he kept at a safe distance, in the meanwhile sucking his bruised knuckles and nursing his left ear.
"We have a right to walk on this street if we want to," remarked Randy.
"They were standing right by this window, and appeared to be listening to something," declared Slugger Brown.
"Then they must have been listening to what we were saying," grumbled Jackson.
"How long were you at this window, young fellow?" demanded Jake Tate.
"I guess that's our own business," and Randy's eyes flashed defiance.
"You want to keep your eyes on those Rovers," cautioned Nappy Martell. "They're as sly as foxes. I know 'em!"
"And they'll do you harm if they can," added Slugger Brown.
"He is saying that because we wouldn't stand for any of his underhanded work," explained Fred.
"We never did stand for anything that wasn't on the level," added Andy, and looked at Carson Davenport suggestively.
"See here, young fellow, don't you get fresh!" cried the oil company promoter. And then he added with a sneer: "I reckon you've been listening to more than was good for you."
"Well, if you want to know it, we heard a few things that surprised us," answered Jack boldly.
"What did you hear?" questioned Jake Tate quickly.
"We heard what you had to say about the Lorimer Spell claim, if you must know it," retorted Fred.
"Yes, and we are going to report it to my Uncle Dick at once," said Andy.
At this the men were evidently much disturbed, and Tate pulled Davenport back and whispered something into his ear. Then both conferred with Jackson. In the meantime Nappy and Slugger came forward again with Werner close behind them.
"You tried to run things to suit yourselves up at Colby Hall," sneered Slugger. "But you'll find it a different story down here."
"Don't you dare to tell any stories about us," warned Nappy. "If you do you'll get in bad, mark my words. I've stood all I'm going to stand from your crowd."
"If you are behaving yourself and trying to earn an honest living, we'll have nothing to say to anybody about your past," answered Jack. "The war is over, and the question of how you aided those German sympathizers is a thing of the past."
"Don't you trust 'em," growled Werner. "They'll do their level best to get you in bad. I know 'em!"
"You just let me get at you, Werner, and I'll show you what I'll do," retorted Jack, and made a move in the direction of the fellow. And at this the bully lost no time in retreating. He was evidently afraid that the Rovers would hand him over to the authorities.
By this time the men were coming forward again.
"See here, boys, we don't want any trouble," said Carson Davenport oilily. "We were only talking about that Lorimer Spell claim in a general way. I'll explain everything to Mr. Rover's satisfaction in the morning. I only want to work with him in this matter. We could get along so much better than if we worked separately."
"All right, then," answered Jack. "You know where my father can be found."
"You may have got a wrong impression from our talk," added Jake Tate. "We handle things in a rougher way down in this oil country than you do up in New York. Davenport will straighten out everything with your father."
After this the men continued to talk to the boys for several minutes, doing their best to allay the Rovers' suspicions. Nappy and Slugger listened with interest, as did also Werner, who, however, kept out of reach of Jack and his cousins.
"We might as well be going, Nappy," said Slugger presently, and turned and hurried up the narrow street, and Gabe Werner went after them. Then, a moment later, the men returned to the restaurant to finish the meal they had begun.
"I suppose we might as well return to the hotel," said Jack.
"Right you are!" declared Randy. "The best thing we can do is to let Uncle Dick know about this."
They found Dick Rover sitting in a corner of the hotel porch talking to an old oil man to whom he had brought a letter of introduction.
"This is Mr. Nick Ogilvie," said Jack's father after introducing the boys. "He will take charge of any operations we may commence in this territory. He is an old oil man, and knows this district thoroughly."
The boys sat down to listen to what the old oil man might have to say. Mr. Ogilvie remained the best part of an hour, and then went off, stating that he would be around again the next day. As soon as he had departed the boys, making sure that no one else was within hearing, told Jack's father of all they had learned concerning Carson Davenport and the men associated with him. Dick Rover listened with intense interest, his face clouding as they proceeded.
"This is certainly news, and I'll have to investigate it thoroughly," he declared, when they had finished. "Evidently this Carson Davenport is a worse sharper than I thought."
"He says he can explain everything to your satisfaction," said Jack. "But I don't see how it can be done."
"Nor I, either," declared Randy. "My opinion is that they are a bunch of crooks and nothing else."
"Evidently they think they have some sort of claim on the Spell land," answered Dick Rover. "And it is possible that such is a fact, because, as I said before, the title to Spell's land seemed to be clouded. Of course, I don't know what is in the documents in the safe-deposit vault at Wichita Falls. Those documents may clear the matter up."
"Then I should think the best thing would be to get those papers," said Jack.
"That's what I intend to do."
"Will you see Davenport in the morning?" questioned Fred curiously.
"Certainly, Fred. I am not afraid of that crowd, and the more they talk the better I'll like it, for then I can get some sort of line on what they are aiming at."
It was some time after breakfast the next morning when Carson Davenport put in an appearance. Dick Rover was busy writing some letters when he came in, and the boys were addressing post-cards to their folks and friends. Davenport was alone.
"I want to clear up any misunderstanding that may have arisen," said the oil well promoter smoothly, as he dropped into a chair beside Jack's father.
There followed a conversation lasting over an hour. At first Davenport did his best to smooth matters over, but gradually, as Dick Rover managed to draw out one fact after another, the oil well promoter showed more or less irritation. Dick's shrewdness bothered him, and finally he hardly knew how to proceed.
"You take it from me, Rover, the only way for us to do is to work this thing together," he remarked. "One claim is just as good as the other, and what is the use of our getting into a dispute over it when we are not real certain that there is oil on the land?"
"Then you mean to say that you think your claim on the land is just as good as mine?" asked Jack's father.
"My claim is just as good, and maybe better. But I don't want to have any trouble. I figure that it will cost about thirty thousand dollars to sink a well on that land. Now why not go in together? We've got ten thousand dollars, and if you'll put up the other twenty thousand we can try our luck and see what comes of it."
"I'm not admitting that your claim is a good one," answered Dick Rover. "I'll know more about it in a few days."
"Why, what are you going to do?"
"When Lorimer Spell died he left me everything he possessed, and that included some things left in a safe deposit box at a bank in Wichita Falls. I am going to get that box and see if there are any documents in it relating to this claim. Then I'll know exactly how I stand in this matter. Until that time I sha'n't make any sort of a deal."
This was Dick Rover's final decision so far as it concerned Davenport, and the latter went off looking anything but pleased.
"He'll get the best of you if he can, Dad," remarked Jack, after the interview was over.
"I don't doubt it in the least, Son."
"What's the next move, if I may ask?" questioned Fred. The oil well proposition was beginning to interest him tremendously.
"I am going to take the first train for Wichita Falls to-day," answered his uncle. "I guess you boys can get along here until I get back."
"How far is that Lorimer Spell tract of land from here?" asked Randy.
"About three miles or so."
"Then what's the matter with our walking out there and taking a look around?" suggested Fred. "We've got the whole day before us."
"You can do that and welcome," said Jack's father. "But take my advice and take a good lunch along, because you may not be able to get anything up there. I don't know whether there are any farmhouses around or not."
An hour later Dick Rover was off for Wichita Falls by train. Then the lads asked the restaurant man to put up a substantial lunch for them, and a little later they set off in the direction where the Lorimer Spell tract was located.
Around Columbina the walking was anything but good. But presently they found themselves on a country road which had not been cut up by a steady stream of wagons and automobiles, and here they found going better.
They had covered about two miles when they came to a bend in the road, and there Andy called a halt.
"I've got something in my shoe. Wait till I take it off," he said, and sat down on a rock.
They were all resting when they saw an automobile truck rumble past them. There were three men on the front seat, and the lads were very much surprised to see that two of them were Jake Tate and the man called Jackson.
"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.
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.
"Am I seeing straight, and is it really the Rovers?" exclaimed John Franklin, when confronted by the boys.
"You are seeing straight enough, Mr. Franklin," answered Fred, as he shook hands first with the father and then the son. "Is your claim around here?"
"No, our claim is some miles from here," answered John Franklin. "It's at a place called Pottown."
"I've heard of that place," said Jack, as he too shook hands, as did the others. "They say there are quite a few oil wells in that neighborhood."
"What have you done about your claim, if I may ask?" questioned Randy.
"Oh, I've got myself all straightened out," said Mr. Franklin, with a broad smile. "You see, when I got down here I played in luck right from the start. Those swindlers had got tired of trying to do something on my farm, and then I ran into an old friend of mine who was a lawyer. He took the matter up for me, and the swindlers got scared and all of them quit the claim over night; so I am now in sole possession."
"And have you struck oil?" asked Jack.
"No, I haven't got that far yet, but I have great hopes of going ahead. You see, I'm handicapped for money. I could get some capitalists interested, but they generally want the lion's share of the proceeds, and that I don't want to give them."
"I don't blame you," said Fred. "You ought to get the most of the money if the oil is found on your land."
"I'm telling dad to take his time," put in Phil Franklin. "The land won't run away, and the more oil wells that are producing around us, the more valuable our place will become."
"But what brought you young fellows down here?" questioned the man. "Are you on a sightseeing tour?"
"Not altogether," answered Jack. "My father is interested in a claim down here, and he allowed us to come along with him." And thereupon he gave some of the particulars.
John Franklin listened attentively to the story, and his eyes flashed angrily when the names of Tate and Jackson were mentioned.
"Those are the swindlers who were trying to do me out of my property!" he ejaculated. "And I'm of the opinion this Carson Davenport was in with them. They are a bunch of crooks, and nothing else. They ought all to be in prison."
"Well, they'll land there sooner or later if they don't look out," returned Fred.
"If I was your father I would have nothing to do with this Davenport or the men acting with him," went on Mr. Franklin to Jack.
"Do you know anything at all about the Lorimer Spell claim?"
"I don't know anything about what has happened lately so far as that claim is concerned," was John Franklin's reply. "But I do know when oil was first discovered in this region some of the experts went over the whole territory carefully and they did not consider the Spell claim as being of any value. That's the reason no wells were located there. They claimed that the geological formation was not good for oil."
"Oh! then you mean to say there is no oil on that claim?" questioned Fred disappointedly.
"I don't know anything about it, lad. I am only telling you what the experts said. Those fellows miss it once in a while, just the same as other people. At the same time, if an expert doesn't think ground is worth drilling for oil, you can make up your mind that the chances of striking it rich there are very slim."
"But are you sure the experts went over it very carefully?" questioned Andy.
"I am."
"And who were they?"
"They were from Wichita Falls—a firm by the name of Fitch and Lunberry."
"Then probably if my father wanted it he could get a report from Fitch and Lunberry," said Jack.
"I think he could—provided, of course, he was willing to pay for it. These experts don't work for nothing!" and John Franklin grinned.
"If you stay down here any length of time I wish you'd come over to our place and see us," said Phil Franklin.
"We'll be sure to do that," answered Randy.
"Maybe I can get your uncle interested in my land," suggested Mr. Franklin. "I wish he'd look it over. It wouldn't cost him anything."
"I'll speak to dad about it," answered Jack quickly. There was something about the Franklins which had pleased him ever since he had first known them. They appeared to be perfectly honest and reliable.
Accompanied by the Franklins, the Rovers tramped around the various oil wells located in and near Derrickville. Mr. Franklin understood a great deal about the wells and the machinery, and explained these things in an interesting way, so the afternoon passed quickly. Almost before they knew it the Rovers had to say good-bye and start on the return trip with Mr. Bradley.
"Gee, I wonder if what Mr. Franklin said about the Spell claim can be true!" remarked Jack, on the way to Columbina.
"He ought to know what he is talking about, Jack," answered Fred. "And certainly he had no axe to grind in the matter. He doesn't want to see Uncle Dick throw his money away."
Two more days passed, and still Dick Rover did not return from Wichita Falls. The boys went out sightseeing and amused themselves as best they could, but this was not saying much. The most fun they had was in a shooting-gallery where they astonished the proprietor by the bull's-eyes they made.
"You young fellows are some shots," said he. "You must be used to guns."
"We are," answered Fred.
The four Rovers had gone into the target gallery directly after supper and while it was still light. Now, when they came out, Jack suggested that they return to the hotel.
"We might send out a letter or two," he suggested, "and I'd like to look over a newspaper if I can find one."
The Rovers were heading in the direction of the hotel when, glancing across the street, they saw Nappy Martell and Slugger Brown.
"They seem to be watching us," declared Jack.
"Probably they'd like to know what we intend to do," answered Randy. "I think we might as well ignore them," he went on, as he saw Nappy and Slugger crossing the muddy roadway.
"Hello!" called Slugger coolly. "We've been looking for you fellows."
"Looking for us!" exclaimed Fred.
"Yes, we found out you were not at the hotel, and so we thought you must be somewhere around town."
"What do you want of us?" demanded Jack suspiciously.
"We came to see you on Gabe Werner's account," answered Nappy. As he spoke he showed that he was nervous.
"On Gabe Werner's account! What do you mean?"
"I guess you had better ask Gabe about that," answered Slugger. "He's very anxious to see all of you—wants to see you this evening, too."
"Where is he?"
"We left him at a house up on the Derrickville road. It's about half a mile or so out of town," answered Slugger.
"Is he sick?" questioned Fred.
"He's worse than that—he's down and out," answered Nappy. "But he said to tell all of you that he wanted to see you this evening sure—that to-morrow morning wouldn't do."
"See here, Nappy, is this some sort of trick?" demanded Jack bluntly. "If it is, I want to tell you right now it won't work."
"It's no trick. How could it be? We are all alone, and we're not armed. We are doing this solely because Gabe Werner asked us to do it. He couldn't come himself, not with a broken leg."
"Oh, then he has broken his leg, has he?" said Andy, with something of sympathy in his voice. "That, of course, is another matter." He turned to the others. "I'm willing to go and see him if you are."
"All right, let's go," put in Fred.
"We'll go," said Jack, after a few whispered words to Randy. "But you remember what I said, both of you. If this is a trick we'll see to it that you get the worst of it."
"You'll find out that it's no trick as soon as you get to the house," declared Slugger Brown.
He and Nappy Martell led the way, and soon the whole crowd had left Columbina behind and were trudging along the muddy road leading to Derrickville. The way was dark and anything but inviting, and all of them made slow progress.
"The house is over there in the field," said Slugger presently, as he came to a halt. "You needn't be afraid, because there are only a very old man and a woman living there. Gabe Werner has been boarding with them since he came down here."
"Are you fellows working for Carson Davenport?" questioned Randy.
"We expect to work for him, yes. But nothing has been settled as yet," answered Nappy. "He has offered us thirty dollars a week, but we think we can get more than that elsewhere," he added loftily.
"And what of Werner? Is he going to work with you?"
"That was the idea," answered Slugger. "But I don't know what he'll do now. He's certainly in bad shape."
"How did he get his leg broken?"
"He didn't tell us a word about it," answered Nappy. "There is something queer about the whole transaction. But he said he must see all of you Rovers and do it to-night. What he's got on his mind, I don't know."
The Rovers hardly knew what to do. They were unarmed, and the place certainly looked like a lonely one. They wondered if it would be possible for Carson Davenport and his crowd to be at the house waiting for them.
"You and Slugger go ahead," Jack said. "We'll follow behind. And mark you, no tricks!"
"There is nothing to be afraid of," Slugger assured him. And then he and Nappy stalked off in the fast-gathering darkness. They walked up to the lonely house, and disappeared around a corner of the building.
"Say, Jack, this doesn't look right to me at all," announced Fred. "I wish I had a pistol."
"I'm going to arm myself with a club," said Randy, and looked around for such a weapon.
The others did the same, two of them picking up sticks and the others arming themselves with stones. Then they advanced with caution, keeping their eyes wide open for the appearance of anything that might look dangerous.
"I don't see any light around the place," announced Jack, as they drew closer.
"I wonder what became of Nappy and Slugger?" broke in Fred. "I don't see them anywhere."
"Suppose we call them," suggested Andy.
"Let us walk around the house first," returned his twin. "They may have gone in by the back way. Most of the folks living around here use the back door for everything."
With added caution the Rover boys walked slowly around one side of the building. In the rear they found everything as dark and deserted as in the front.
"This is certainly strange," announced Jack. He advanced and knocked sharply on the closed door.
There was no reply, and he knocked a second time. Then Randy beat upon the door with his stick.
"It looks to me as if there wasn't a soul in the place," announced Andy. "I wonder what has become of Nappy and Slugger?"
"See here, will you?" cried Fred suddenly. "It looks to me as if nobody lived here. Every one of the windows is boarded up on the inside. I believe this house is being used for nothing but a storehouse. I don't believe a soul lives here."
"Hello, Nappy! Hello, Slugger!" called out Jack loudly. "Where are you?"
To this call there was no reply.
"We've been tricked!" exclaimed Randy.
"Just what I think!" burst out Fred. "They didn't bring us here to see Gabe Werner at all!"
"There isn't a soul around the building, that's certain," remarked Andy. "What do you suppose has become of Nappy and Slugger?"
The Rovers looked around in the fast-gathering darkness, but could see no one. Then they walked around the building several times, peering in all directions for a sight of the fellows who had brought them on this strange mission.
"It's a storehouse, right enough," announced Jack. "And my opinion is that everything is nailed up except the front door, and that, as you can see, has a padlock on it."
It was certainly a mystery, and for the time being the Rover boys were unable to solve it. Looking down on the ground, they saw a number of footprints, but it was now too dark to follow any of these.
"Wish we had brought a pocket flashlight along," remarked Fred.
"It's getting as dark as a stack of black cats," said Andy.
"Yes, and we had better be getting back to town before it gets so dark we lose our way," returned Jack.
As it was, they had some difficulty in finding the path down to the road. Then they stumbled along in the darkness, occasionally heading into some mud hole up to their ankles.
"Nappy and Slugger certainly have the laugh on us for this," said Fred, as they plowed along. "Maybe they thought we would lose our way completely in this darkness."
It was a good half-hour before the Rovers reached the outskirts of Columbina. At a great distance they could see many twinkling electric lights, one of which hung on the top of every oil derrick. But these were so far off they did nothing towards illuminating the way.
"Almost ten o'clock," announced Jack, consulting his watch. "About all we can do is to clean the mud from our shoes and go to bed."
There was a sleepy young clerk behind the counter of the hotel, and he showed them where they could clean up.
"No bootblacks in Columbina," said Randy, with a grin. And then all set to work with a whisk broom and brushes to clean up.
"I wonder if Uncle Dick will get in to-night," remarked Fred. The last train to stop at Columbina was due in fifteen minutes.
"I think I'll stay up and find out," said Jack.
"You waiting for Mr. Rover?" demanded the boy behind the counter, as he yawned and stretched himself. "If you are, he came in a couple of hours ago."
"Is that so!" cried Jack, in surprise. "Where is he now?"
"I think he's up in his room, although I'm not sure. You see, I was out to a dance last night, and I'm pretty tired, and I fell asleep a couple of times sitting here doing nothing. Somehow or other, it seems to be an off night around this hotel. Nothing doing at all," and the sleepy clerk yawned again.
"Maybe he's up in his room looking over those papers he brought," suggested Randy. "Come on up and see."
All mounted the stairs to the third floor of the hotel. When they reached the room occupied by Dick Rover they found the door locked, and a rap upon it brought no response.
"He isn't here, that's sure," said Jack. "Maybe he went out on an errand."
"Unless he's in our room," said Fred. In the larger apartment which the four boys occupied there was a small table, and Jack's father had several times come in to use this for writing purposes.
Jack had one of the keys to the room, and, stepping across the hallway, he attempted to insert this in the lock. Much to his surprise, the key would not go into the keyhole.
"That is strange——" he began, and then tried the door, to find it unlocked. Another key was on the inside.
The room was pitch dark, only a dim lamp being lighted in the rear of the long hallway. Jack stepped forward to get a match from a bureau, and as he did so he stumbled over something on the floor and pitched headlong.
"Oh!" he gasped, and then gave a sudden shudder, for he had felt the body of someone beside him. "Be careful," he went on. "Make a light, quick! Here is someone on the floor! I'm afraid it's dad!"
The others piled into the room, and Randy, who happened to have some matches in his pocket, struck a light and lit the lamp.
There, on the floor of the bedroom, lay Dick Rover. There was a small cut on his left temple from which the blood was flowing. He was breathing heavily, and evidently trying to speak.
"Dad! Dad! what happened to you?" cried Jack hoarsely, as he bent over and raised his parent up.
"He's been hurt!" exclaimed Fred. "See the cut on his forehead. Wait—I'll get some water."
He made a dash for the pitcher and also for a towel, and while Jack supported his father on his arm the others bathed Dick Rover's face and washed away the trickling blood.
"He's been hit," declared Randy. "See the lump on the back of his head," and he pointed it out.
Presently Dick Rover opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the anxious lads.
"What—what—what happened to me?" he stammered and gave a gasp. "Who—who knocked me down?"
"That we don't know, Dad," answered Jack, and he was glad to realize that his parent was coming to his senses. "Gee! I was afraid you had been killed."
The four boys raised Dick Rover up and laid him on one of the cots. They had a little first-aid kit with them, and from this they got some plaster with which they bound up the small cut.
It was some time before Dick Rover felt able to tell his story. In the meanwhile Fred dashed downstairs for some hot water, which was applied to the lump on the sufferer's head.
"I guess I'll get over it," said Jack's father, with a wan smile. "But they certainly did give it to me." Then he gave a sudden start. "What about my papers? Are they safe?"
The boys looked around, but saw no papers of any kind in the room.
"I had them in my bag. I brought them in here to look them over, and to do some writing at the table."
"Well, there's no bag here now, or papers either," announced Randy.
"Then those rascals must have taken them! That was probably why they knocked me down. They wanted to rob me."
"But who attacked you, Dad?" questioned Jack.
"That I don't know, Son. I was seated at the table with the open bag beside me, and was looking over some of the documents I had brought from the safe deposit vault in Wichita Falls when I heard a noise behind me near the door. I was just about to get up to see what it meant, when all of a sudden I received a terrible crack on the back of the head. I turned around, and then somebody aimed another blow at me that caught me on the left temple. Then everything seemed to dance before my eyes, and I guess I must have gone down in a heap on the floor. And that's all I knew until I found you supporting me and bathing my forehead."
"It must have been those oil-well fellows!" ejaculated Fred.
"I think I see a light!" almost shouted Jack. "Nappy and Slugger were in this plot. They made us go away out of town just so we wouldn't be here with my dad when the other fellows attacked him!"
"I guess you're right," answered Randy.
"What's this you are saying?" questioned Dick Rover, rather feebly.
In a few words the boys explained the trick Nappy Martell and Slugger Brown had played on them.
"Yes, I guess you are right. It must have been a part of the game," said Jack's father. "And are you sure my bag and everything that was in it are gone?"
"Yes, there isn't a single paper in this room," answered Jack. "And when we came up we found the door to your room locked, so it isn't likely they are there."
"They must have dug out the minute they knocked me over and got the papers," answered Dick Rover. "Probably they were afraid you or somebody else might come up and catch them at their dastardly work. As it is, it is queer somebody didn't see them."
"There happens to be no one down in the office but the young clerk, and he's half asleep," answered Randy. "Besides that, those fellows may have come in by the back way. Did you catch sight of them at all?"
"I can't say that I did, Randy. The first blow dazed me, and while I remember something of two or three forms, it is all so vague that it amounts to nothing. I rather think, however, that there were at least three men."
"And if there were, I'll bet a new hat those men were Davenport, Tate, and Jackson," returned Jack firmly.
"You may be right, Son. But you know what they say in court: It is one thing to know the truth, and quite another to be able to prove it."
"But who would want to steal those papers if not Davenport and his crowd?" questioned Randy. And then he added hurriedly: "Did they rob you of anything else, Uncle Dick?"
"I don't think so." Dick Rover felt in his pockets. "No, my money and watch and my diamond ring are all safe. If they had been ordinary thieves they would certainly have taken everything of value."
"Our baggage doesn't seem to be disturbed," said Andy, who was looking around. "I guess you are right—they were after those documents and nothing else."
There was a pause, and suddenly the boys saw a queer smile pass over Dick Rover's face, and then he uttered a peculiar whistle.
"What is it, Dad?" said Jack wonderingly. He knew that his father had a habit of whistling in that fashion when something struck him as funny.
"I was just thinking that perhaps those fellows who robbed me had taken a white elephant off my hands," returned Dick Rover.
"Why, what do you mean by white elephant?" questioned Andy.
"I mean that maybe they are fighting tooth and nail to get possession of something which I might be only too glad to give them for nothing."
"Oh, Dad, are you talking about the Lorimer Spell claim?" questioned Jack.
"Yes."
"But I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. But maybe you will after I've told my story. As you know, I went to Wichita Falls mainly to get the documents which Lorimer Spell had stored away in the safe deposit vault of a bank there. Well, I got the documents, and in looking them over found that while Lorimer Spell's claim to the land seemed to be fairly well established, still there was something of a cloud to the title—the cloud of which Carson Davenport and his crowd are taking advantage. But more than that, I found that a firm of oil experts named Fitch and Lunberry had gone over the property both for Spell and for an oil promoter who had thought to put some money into operations there. So then I called on the firm and had a long talk with Mr. Fitch."
"And what did Mr. Fitch have to say about the land?" asked Jack quickly.
"He was very frank to say that in his opinion there was no oil of any kind on the claim. He told me that he knew Lorimer Spell very well, and that while Spell was all right in the main, he had been daffy on the subject of oil, so much so that it had just about turned the poor fellow's brain until he imagined that there was fabulous wealth in oil on every acre he possessed. Mr. Fitch got down to facts and figures, and showed me all of his deductions, and he said that it was his honest opinion that any money spent on the Lorimer Spell claim would be utterly wasted."