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diff --git a/old/30471-h/30471-h.htm b/old/30471-h/30471-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a843447 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30471-h/30471-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6078 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil, by Alice B. 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Emerson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil + The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune + +Author: Alice B. Emerson + +Release Date: November 14, 2009 [EBook #30471] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, D Alexander and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<h1>Betty Gordon in<br /> +the Land of Oil</h1> + +<h4>OR</h4> + +<h3>The Farm That Was Worth a<br /> +Fortune</h3> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ALICE B. EMERSON</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Author of “Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm,”<br /> +“Betty Gordon in Washington,” “The<br /> +Ruth Fielding Series,” Etc.</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 64px;"> +<img src="images/z007.jpg" width="64" height="70" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK</p> +<h3>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</h3> +<p class="center">PUBLISHERS</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<p class="smallgap"> </p> +<h3>Books for Girls</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> ALICE B. EMERSON<br /> +<br /> +12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="center">BETTY GORDON SERIES</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL</span></p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> +<p class="center">RUTH FIELDING SERIES</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST</span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.</span></p></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1920, By</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Cupples & Leon Company</span></p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil</span></p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="right">Printed in U. S. A.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 318px;"> +<img src="images/z006.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="318" height="500" alt="CLOVER TOOK THE BIT BETWEEN HER TEETH AND BEGAN TO +RUN." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CLOVER TOOK THE BIT BETWEEN HER TEETH AND BEGAN TO +RUN.</span></div> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="50%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="Illustration"> + +<tr><td align="left">“Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil.”</td> +<td align="right">Page <a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr></table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr> +<td align="right"><small>CHAPTER</small></td> +<td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">I</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Breakfast En Route</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">II</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Thinking Backward</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">9</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">III</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">What Bob Heard</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">17</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IV</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Blocked Traffic</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">V</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Between Trains</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">33</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VI</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Quick Action</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">41</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Yankee Friend</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">49</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Flame City</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">58</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">IX</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Old Indian Lore</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">67</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">X</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bob Learns Something</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">74</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XI</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Oil Fire</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">83</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">In the Fields</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">91</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Three Hills</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">100</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Two Invalids</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">108</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XV</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Unexpected News</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">117</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVI</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Housekeeper and Nurse</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">126</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sick Fancies</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">134</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XVIII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Strange Visitors</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">143</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XIX</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Looking Backward</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">152</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XX</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Betty Is Stopped</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">160</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXI</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Where Is Bob</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">169</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Off for Help</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">177</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIII</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Selling the Farm</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">186</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXIV</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Uncle Dick’s Buyer</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">195</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td align="right">XXV</td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Happy Days</span></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">204</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>BETTY GORDON IN<br /> +THE LAND OF OIL</h2> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>BREAKFAST EN ROUTE</h3> + +<p>“There, Bob, did you see that? Oh, we’ve passed it, and you were +looking the other way. It was a cowboy. At least he looked just like +the pictures. And he was waving at the train.”</p> + +<p>Betty Gordon, breakfasting in the dining-car of the Western Limited, +smiled happily at Bob Henderson, seated on the opposite side of the +table. This was her first long train trip, and she meant to enjoy +every angle of it.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what kind of cowboy you’d make, Bob?” Betty speculated, +studying the frank, boyish face of her companion. “You’d have to be +taller, I think.”</p> + +<p>“But not much thinner,” observed Bob cheerfully. “Skinny cowboys are +always in demand, Betty. They do more work. Well, what do you know +about that!” He broke off his speech abruptly and stared at the table +directly behind Betty.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>Betty paid little attention to his silence. She was busy with her own +thoughts, and now, pouring golden cream into her coffee, voiced one +of them.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad we’re going to Oklahoma,” she announced. “I think it is +heaps more fun to stop before you get to the other side of the +continent. I want to see what is in the middle. The Arnolds, you +know, went direct to California, and now they’ll probably never know +what kind of country takes up the space between Pineville and Los +Angeles. Of course they saw some of it from the train, but that isn’t +like getting off and <i>staying</i>. Is it, Bob?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not,” agreed Bob absently. “Betty Gordon,” he added with a +change of tone, “is that coffee you’re drinking?”</p> + +<p>Betty nodded guiltily.</p> + +<p>“When I’m traveling,” she explained in her defense, “I don’t see why +I can’t drink coffee for breakfast. And when I’m visiting—that’s the +only two times I take it, Bob.”</p> + +<p>Bob had been minded to read her a lecture on the evils of coffee +drinking for young people, but his gaze wandered again to the table +behind Betty, and his scientific protest remained unspoken.</p> + +<p>“For goodness sake, Bob,” complained Betty, “what can you be staring +at?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p><p>“Don’t turn around,” cautioned Bob in a low tone. “When we go back to +our car I’ll tell you all about it.”</p> + +<p>Bob gave his attention more to his breakfast after this, and seemed +anxious to keep Betty from asking any more questions. He noticed a +package of flat envelopes lying under her purse and asked if she had +letters she wished mailed.</p> + +<p>“Those aren’t letters,” answered Betty, taking them out and spreading +them on the cloth for him to see. “They’re flower seeds, Bob. Hardy +flowers.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t planned your garden yet, have you?” cried the astonished +boy. “When you haven’t the first idea of the kind of place you’re +going to live in? Your uncle wrote, you know, that living in Flame +City was so simplified people didn’t take time to look around for +rooms or a house—they took whatever they could get, sure that that +was all there was. How do you know you’ll have a place to plant a +garden?”</p> + +<p>Betty buttered another roll.</p> + +<p>“I’m not planning for a garden,” she said mildly. “You’re going to +help me plant these seeds, and we’re going to do it right after +breakfast—just as soon as we can get out on the observation +platform.”</p> + +<p>Bob stared in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“I read a story once,” said Betty with seeming <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>irrelevance. “It was +about some woman who traveled through a barren country, mile after +mile. She was on an accommodation train, too, or perhaps it was +before they had good railroad service. And every so often her +fellow-passengers saw that she threw something out of the window. +They couldn’t see what it was, and she never told them. But the next +year, when some of these same passengers made that trip again, the +train rolled through acres and acres of the most gorgeous red +poppies. The woman had been scattering the seed. She said, whether +she ever rode over that ground again or not, she was sure some of the +seeds would sprout and make the waste places beautiful for +travelers.”</p> + +<p>“I should think it would take a lot of seed,” said the practical Bob, +his eyes following two men who were leaving the dining-car. “Did you +get poppies, too?”</p> + +<p>“Yellow and red ones,” declared Betty. “The dealer said they were +very hardy, and, anyway, I do want to try, Bob. We’ve been through +such miles of prairie, and it’s so deadly monotonous. Even if none of +my seed grows near the railroad, the wind may carry some off to some +lonely farm home and then they’ll give the farmer’s wife a gay +surprise. Let’s fling the seed from the observation car, shall we?”</p> + +<p>“All right; though I must say I don’t think a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>bit of it will grow,” +said Bob. “But first, come back into our coach with me; I want to +tell you about those two men who sat back of you.”</p> + +<p>“Is that what you were staring about?” demanded Betty, as they found +their seats and Bob picked up his camera preparatory to putting in a +new roll of film. “I wondered why you persisted in looking over my +shoulder so often.”</p> + +<p>Bob Henderson’s boyish face sobered and unconsciously his chin +hardened a little, a sure sign that he was a bit worried.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether you noticed them or not,” he began. “They went +out of the diner a few minutes ahead of us. One is tall with gray +hair and wears glasses, and the other is thin, too, but short and has +very dark eyes. No glasses. They’re both dressed in gray—hats, +suits, socks, ties—everything.”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t notice them,” said Betty dryly. “But you seem to have +done so.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help hearing what they said,” explained Bob. “I was up +early this morning, trying to read, and they were talking in their +berths. And when I was getting my shoes shined before breakfast, they +were awaiting their turn, and they kept it right up. I suppose +because I’m only a boy they think it isn’t worth while to be +careful.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>“But what have they done?” urged Betty impatiently.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what they’ve done,” admitted Bob. “I’ll tell you what I +think, though. I think they’re a pair of sharpers, and out to take +any money they can find that doesn’t have to be earned.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Bob Henderson, how you do talk!” Betty reproached him +reprovingly. “Do you mean to say they would rob anybody?”</p> + +<p>“Well, probably not through a picked lock, or a window in the dead of +night,” answered Bob. “But taking money that isn’t rightfully yours +can not be called by a very pleasant name, you know. Mind you, I +don’t say these men are dishonest, but judging from what I overheard +they lack only the opportunity.</p> + +<p>“They’re going to Oklahoma, too, and that’s what interested me when I +first heard them,” he went on. “The name attracted my attention, and +then the older one went on to talk about their chances of getting the +best of some one in the oil fields.</p> + +<p>“‘The way to work it,’ he said, ‘is to get hold of a woman +farm-owner; some one who hasn’t any men folks to advise her or meddle +with her property. Ten to one she won’t have heard of the oil boom, +or if she has, it’s easy enough to pose as a government expert and +tell her her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>land is worthless for oil. We’ll offer her a good price +for it for straight farming, and we’ll have the old lady grateful to +us the rest of her life.’</p> + +<p>“If that doesn’t sound like the scheming of a couple of rascals, I +miss my guess,” concluded Bob. “You see the trick, don’t you, Betty? +They’ll take care to find a farm that’s right in the oil section, and +then they’ll bully and persuade some timid old woman into selling her +farm to them for a fraction of its worth.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you expose ’em?” said Betty vigorously. “Tell the oil men +about them! I guess there must be people who would know how to keep +such men from doing business. What are you going to do about it, +Bob?”</p> + +<p>The boy looked at her in admiration.</p> + +<p>“You believe in action, don’t you?” he returned. “You see, we can’t +really do anything yet, because, so far as we know, the men have +merely talked their scheme over. If people were arrested for merely +plotting, the world might be saved a lot of trouble, but free speech +would be a thing of the past. As long as they only talk, Betty, we +can’t do a thing.”</p> + +<p>“Here those men come now, down the aisle,” whispered Betty excitedly. +“Don’t look up—pretend to be fixing the camera.”</p> + +<p>Bob obediently fumbled with the box, while Betty gazed detachedly +across the aisle. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>two men glanced casually at them as they +passed, opened the door of the car, and went on into the next coach.</p> + +<p>“They’re going to the smoker,” guessed Bob, correctly as it proved. +“I’m going to follow them, Betty, and see if I can hear any more. +Perhaps there will be something definite to report to the proper +authorities. From what Mr. Littell told us, the oil field promoters +would like all the crooks rounded up. They’re the ones that hurt the +name of reputable oil stocks. You don’t care if I go, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I did want you to help me scatter seeds,” confessed Betty candidly. +“However, go ahead, and I’ll do it myself. Lend me the camera, and +I’ll take my sweater and stay out a while. If I’m not here when you +come back, look for me out on the observation platform.”</p> + +<p>Bob hurried after the two possible sharpers, and Betty went through +the train till she came to the last platform, railed in and offering +the comforts of a porch to those passengers who did not mind the +breeze. This morning it was deserted, and Betty was glad, for she +wanted a little time to herself.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THINKING BACKWARD</h3> + +<p>Betty leaned over the rail, flinging the contents of the seed packets +into the air and breathing a little prayer that the wind might carry +them far and that none might “fall on stony ground.”</p> + +<p>“If I never see the flowers, some one else may,” she thought. “I +remember that old lady who lived in Pineville, poor blind Mrs. +Tompkins. She was always telling about the pear orchard she and her +husband planted the first year of their married life out in Ohio. +Then they moved East, and she never saw the trees. ‘But somebody has +been eating the pears these twenty years,’ she used to say. I hope my +flowers grow for some one to see.”</p> + +<p>When she had tossed all the seeds away, Betty snuggled into one of +the comfortable reed chairs and gave herself up to her own thoughts. +Since leaving Washington, the novelty and excitement of the trip had +thoroughly occupied her mind, and there had been little time for +retrospection.</p> + +<p>This bright morning, as the prairie land slipped past the train, +Betty Gordon’s mind swiftly reviewed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>the incidents of the last few +months and marveled at the changes brought about in a comparatively +short time. She was an orphan, this dark-eyed girl of thirteen, and, +having lost her mother two years after her father’s death, had turned +to her only remaining relative, an uncle, Richard Gordon. How he came +to her in the little town of Pineville, her mother’s girlhood home, +and arranged to send her to spend the summer on a farm with an old +school friend of his has been told in the first volume of this +series, entitled “Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm; or, The Mystery of a +Nobody.” At Bramble Farm Betty had met Bob Henderson, a lad a year or +so older than herself and a ward from the county poorhouse. The girl +and boy had become fast friends, and when Bob learned enough of his +mother’s family to make him want to know all and in pursuit of that +knowledge had fled to Washington, it seemed providential that Betty’s +uncle should also be in the capital so that she, too, might journey +there.</p> + +<p>That had been her first “real traveling,” mused Betty, recalling her +eagerness to discover new worlds. Bob had been the first to leave the +farm, and Betty had made the trip to Washington alone. This morning +she vividly remembered every detail of the day-long journey and +especially of the warm reception that awaited her at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>the Union +Station. This has been described in the second book of this series, +entitled <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/6853">“Betty Gordon in Washington; or, Strange Adventures in a +Great City.”</a> If Betty should live to be an old lady she would +probably never cease to recall the peculiar circumstances under which +she made friends with the three Littell girls and their cousin from +Vermont and came to spend several delightful weeks at the hospitable +mansion of Fairfields. The Littell family had grown to be very fond +of Betty and of Bob, whose fortunes seemed to be inextricably mixed +up with hers, and when the time came for them to leave for Oklahoma, +fairly showered them with gifts.</p> + +<p>No sooner did word reach Betty that her uncle awaited her in the oil +regions than Bob announced that he was going West, too. He had +succeeded in getting trace of two sisters of his mother, and +presumably they lived somewhere in the section where Betty’s uncle +was stationed.</p> + +<p>“I’ll never forget how lovely the Littells were to us,” thought +Betty, a mist in her eyes blurring the sage brush. “Wasn’t Bob +surprised when Mr. Littell gave him that camera? And Mrs. Littell +must have known he didn’t have a nice bag, because she gave him that +beauty all fitted with ebony toilet articles. And the girls clubbed +together and gave each of us a signet ring—that was dear of them. I +thought they had done everything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>for me friends could, keeping me +there so long and entertaining me as though they had invited me as a +special guest; so when Mr. and Mrs. Littell gave me that string of +gold beads I was just about speechless. There never were such people! +Heigho! Four months ago I was living in a little village, +discontented because Uncle Dick wouldn’t take me with him. And now +I’ve made lots of new friends, seen Washington, and am speeding +toward the wild and woolly West. I guess it never pays to complain.”</p> + +<p>With this philosophical conclusion, Betty pulled a letter from her +pocket and fell to reading it. Bobby Littell had written a letter for +each day of the journey and Betty had derived genuine pleasure from +these gay notes so like the cheerful, sunny Roberta herself. This +morning’s letter was taken up with school plans for the fall, and the +writer expressed a wish that Betty might go with them to boarding +school.</p> + +<p>“Libbie thinks perhaps her mother will send her, and just think what +fun we could have,” wrote Bobby, referring to the Vermont cousin.</p> + +<p>Betty dismissed the school question lightly from her mind. She would +certainly enjoy going to school with the Littell girls, and boarding +school was one of her day-dreams, as it is of most girls her age. +After she had seen her uncle and spent some time with him—he was +very <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>dear to her, was this Uncle Dick—she thought she might be +ready to go back East and take up unceremoniously. But there was the +subject of the probable cost—something that never bothered the +Littell girls. Betty knew nothing of her uncle’s finances, beyond the +fact that he had been very generous with her, sending her checks +frequently and never stinting her by word or suggestion. Still, +boarding school, especially a school selected by the Littells, would +undoubtedly be expensive. Betty wisely decided to let the matter drop +for the time being.</p> + +<p>Sage brush and prairie was now left behind, and the train was +rattling through a heavy forest. Betty was glad that the rather nippy +breeze had apparently kept every one else indoors, or else the +monotony of a long train journey. The platform continued to be +deserted, and, wondering what delayed Bob, she took up the camera to +try again for a picture of the receding track. She and Bob had used +up perhaps half a dozen films on this one subject, and the gleaming +point where the rails came together in the distance had an +inexhaustible fascination for the girl.</p> + +<p>“How it does blow!” she gasped. “I remember now when we stopped at +that water-station Bob spoke of—I didn’t notice it at the time, I +was so busy thinking, but the breeze didn’t die <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>down with the motion +of the train. I shouldn’t wonder if there was a strong wind to-day.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, there was a gale, but Betty, accustomed to the +wind from the back platform of a train in motion, thought that it +could be nothing unusual. To be sure, the branches of the tall trees +were crashing about and the sky over the cleared space on each side +of the tracks was gray and ominous (the sun had disappeared as Betty +mused) but the girl, comfortable in sweater and small, close hat, +paid slight attention to these signs.</p> + +<p>“I can’t see what is keeping Bob,” she repeated, putting the camera +down. “Maybe I’d better go back into the car. How those trees do +swish about! I don’t believe if I shouted, I’d be heard above the +noise of the wind and the train.”</p> + +<p>This was an alluring thought, and Betty acted upon it, cautiously at +first, and then, gaining confidence, more freely. It is exhilarating +to contend with the rush of the wind, to pitch one’s voice against a +torrent of sound, and Betty stood at the rail singing as loudly as +she could, her tones lost completely in a grander chorus. Her cheeks +crimsoned, and she fairly shouted, feeling to her finger tips the joy +and excitement of the powerful forces with which she competed—those +of old nature and man’s invention, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>thing of smoke and fire and +speed we call a train.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the brakes went down, there was an uneasy screeching as they +gripped the wheels, and the long train jarred to a standstill.</p> + +<p>“How funny!” puzzled Betty. “There’s no station. We’re right out in +the woods. Oh, I can hear the wind now—how it does howl!”</p> + +<p>She picked up her belongings and made her way back to the car. As she +passed through the coaches every one was asking the cause of the +stop, and an immigrant woman caught hold of Betty as she went through +a day coach.</p> + +<p>“Is it wrong?” she asked nervously, and in halting English. “Must we +get off here?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what the matter is,” answered Betty, thankful that she +was asked nothing more difficult. “But whatever happens, don’t get +off; this isn’t a station, it is right in the woods. If you get off +and lose some of your children, you’ll never get them together again +and the train will go off and leave you. Don’t get off until the +conductor tells you to.”</p> + +<p>The woman sank back in her seat and called her children around her, +evidently resolved to follow this advice to the last letter.</p> + +<p>“She looks as if an earthquake wouldn’t blow her from her seat,” +thought Betty, proceeding to her own car. “Well, at that, it’s safer +for her than trying to find out what the matter is and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>not being +able to find her way aboard again. I remember the conductor told Bob +and me these poor immigrants have such trouble traveling. It must be +awful to make your way in a strange country where you can not +understand what people say to you.”</p> + +<p>No Bob was to be seen when Betty reached her seat, but excited +passengers were apparently trying to fall head-first from the car +windows.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ve run over some one,” announced a fussy little man with +a monocle and a flower in his buttonhole.</p> + +<p>With a warning toot of the whistle, the train began to move slowly +forward. It went a few feet, apparently hit something solid, and +stopped with a violent jar.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my goodness!” wailed a woman who was clearly the wife of the +fussy little man. “Won’t some one please go and find out what the +matter is?”</p> + +<p>Betty looked toward the car door and saw Bob pushing his way toward +her.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>WHAT BOB HEARD</h3> + +<p>When Bob entered the smoking-car he saw the two men he had pointed +out to Betty seated near the door at the further end of the car. The +boy wondered for the first time what he could do that would offer an +excuse for his presence in the car, for of course he had never +smoked. However, walking slowly down the aisle he saw several men +deep in their newspapers and not even pretending to smoke. No one +paid the slightest attention to him. Bob took the seat directly +behind the two men in gray, and, pulling a Chicago paper from his +pocket, bought that morning on the train, buried himself behind it.</p> + +<p>The noise made by the train had evidently lulled caution, or else the +suspected sharpers did not care if their plans were overheard. Their +two heads were very close together, and they were talking earnestly, +their harsh voices clearly audible to any one who sat behind them.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, Blosser,” the older man was saying as Bob unfolded his +paper, “it’s the niftiest little proposition I ever saw mapped out. +We <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>can’t fail. Best of all, it’s within the law—I’ve been reading +up on the Oklahoma statutes. There’s been a lot of new legislation +rushed through since the oil boom struck the State, and we can’t get +into trouble. What do you say?”</p> + +<p>The man called Blosser flipped his cigar ash into the aisle.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like giving a lease,” he objected. “You know as well as I +do, Jack, that putting anything down in black and white is bound to +be risky. That’s what did for Spellman. He had more brains than the +average trader, and what happened? He’s serving seven years in an +Ohio prison.”</p> + +<p>Bob was apparently intensely interested in an advertisement of a new +collar button.</p> + +<p>“Spellman was careless,” said the gray-haired man impatiently. “In +this case we simply have to give a lease. The man’s been coached, and +he won’t turn over his land without something to show for it. I tell +you we’ll get a lawyer we can control to draw the papers, and they +won’t bind us, whatever they exact of the other fellow. Don’t upset +the scheme by one of your obstinate fits.”</p> + +<p>“Call me stubborn, if you like,” said Blosser. “For my part, I think +you’re crazy to consider any kind of papers. A mule-headed farmer, +armed with a lease, can put us both out of business if the thing’s +managed right; and trust some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>smart lawyer to be on hand to give +advice at an unlucky moment. Hello!” he broke off suddenly, “isn’t +that Dan Carson over there on the other side, smoking a cigarette?”</p> + +<p>Bob peeped over his paper and saw the dark-eyed man spring from his +seat and hurry across the aisle where a large, fat, jovial-looking +individual was puffing contentedly on a cigarette.</p> + +<p>“Cal Blosser!” boomed the big man in a voice heard over the car. +“Well, well, if this isn’t like old times! Glad to see you, glad to +see you. What’s that? Jack Fluss with you? Lead me to the boy, bless +his old heart!”</p> + +<p>The two came back to the seat ahead of Bob, and there was a great +handshaking, much slapping on the back, and a general chorus of, +“Well, you’re looking great,” and “How’s the world been treating +you?” before the man called Dan Carson tipped over the seat ahead and +sat down facing the two gray-clad men.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to see you for more reasons than one,” said Blosser, +passing around fresh cigars. “Who’s behind us, Dan?” He lowered his +voice. “Only a kid? Oh, all right. Well, Jack here, has been working +on an oil scheme for the last two weeks, and this morning he comes +out with the bright idea of giving some desert farmer a lease for his +property. Can you get over that?”</p> + +<p>Three spirals of tobacco smoke curled above <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>the seats, and when Bob +lifted his gaze from the paper he could see the round, good-natured +face of the fat man beaming through the gray veil.</p> + +<p>“What you want to go to that trouble for?” he drawled, after a pause. +Clearly he was never hurried into an answer. “Seems to me, Jack, this +is a case where the youngster shows good judgment. Where you fixing +to operate?”</p> + +<p>“Oklahoma,” was the comprehensive answer. “Oil’s the thing to-day. +There’s more money being made in the fields over night than we used +to think was in the United States mint.”</p> + +<p>“Oil’s good,” said the fat man judicially. “But why the lease? Plenty +of farms still owned by widows or old maids, and they’ll fairly throw +the land at you if you handle ’em right.”</p> + +<p>There was an exclamation from the dark-eyed man.</p> + +<p>“Just what I was telling Jack this morning,” he chortled. “Buy a +farm, for farming purposes only, from some old lady. Pay her a good +price, but get your land in the oil section. Old lady happy, we +strike oil, sell out to big company, everybody happy. Simple, after +all. Good schemes always are.”</p> + +<p>Jack Fluss grunted derisively.</p> + +<p>“Lovely schemes, yours always are,” he commented sarcastically. “Only +thing missing from the scenario, as stated, is the farm. Where are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>you going to pick up an oil farm for a song? Old maids are sure to +have a nephew or something hanging round to keep ’em posted.”</p> + +<p>“Now you mention it——” Carson fumbled in his pocket. “Now you +mention it, boys, I believe I’ve got the very place for you. I’ve +been prospecting around quite a bit in Oklahoma, and this summer I +ran across a farm that for location can’t be beat. Right in the heart +of the oil section. Like this——”</p> + +<p>He took an envelope from his pocket and, resting it on his knee, +began to draw a rough diagram. The three heads bent close together +and the busy tongues were silent save for a muttered question or a +word or two of explanation.</p> + +<p>Bob began to think that he had heard all he was to hear, and +certainly he was no longer in doubt as to the character of the men he +had followed. He had decided to go back to Betty when the older of +the two gray-suited men, leaning back and taking off his glasses to +polish them, addressed a question to Carson.</p> + +<p>“Widow own this place?” he asked casually.</p> + +<p>“No, couple of old maids,” was the answer. “Last of their line, and +all that. The neighbors know it as the Saunders place, but I didn’t +rightly get whether that was the name of the old ladies or not.”</p> + +<p>The Saunders place!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>Bob sat up with a jerk, and then, remembering, sank back and turned a +page, though his hands shook with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Faith Henderson, born a Saunders—” The words of the old bookshop +man, Lockwood Hale, who had told Bob about his mother’s people, came +back to him.</p> + +<p>“I do believe it is the very same place,” he said to himself. “There +couldn’t be two farms in the oil section owned by different families +of the name of Saunders. If it is the right farm, and they’re my +aunts, perhaps Betty’s uncle will know where it is.”</p> + +<p>He strained his ears, hoping to gather more information, but having +heard of this desirable farm, Fluss and Blosser were apparently +unwilling to discuss it further. In reality, had Bob only known, they +were mulling the situation over in their respective minds, and Carson +knew they were. That night, over a game of cards, a finished +proposition would doubtless be perfected, and a partnership formed.</p> + +<p>“What about you?” Fluss did say.</p> + +<p>“Who? Me?” asked Carson inelegantly. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t go +in with you. I’m going right on through to the coast. Oklahoma isn’t +healthy for me for a couple of months. All I’ll charge you for the +information is ten per <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>cent. royalty, payable when your first well +flows. My worst enemy couldn’t call me mean.”</p> + +<p>“Got something to show you, Carson,” said the man with eye-glasses. +“Come on back into the sleeper and I’ll unstrap the suitcase.”</p> + +<p>The three rose, tossed away their cigar butts, and went up the aisle. +Bob waited till they had gone into the next car, intending then to go +back to Betty. His intentions were frustrated by a lanky individual +who dropped into the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>“Smoke?” he said in friendly fashion, offering Bob a cigarette. “No? +Well, that’s right. I didn’t smoke at your age, either. Fact is, I +was most twenty-three before I knew how tobacco tasted. Slick-looking +posters went up the aisle just now, what?”</p> + +<p>Bob admitted that there was something peculiar about them.</p> + +<p>“Sharpers, if I ever saw any,” said the lanky one. “We’re overrun +with ’em. They come out from the East, and because they can dress and +know how to sling language——Say,” he suddenly became serious, +“you’d be surprised the way the girls fall for ’em. My girl thinks if +a man’s clothes are all right he must be a Wall Street magnate, and +the rest of the girls are just like her. They’re the men that give +the oil fields a shady side.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>In spite of his roughness, Bob liked the freckle-faced person, and he +had proved that he was far from stupid.</p> + +<p>“You’ve evidently seen tricky oil men,” he said guardedly. “Do you +work in the oil fields? I’m going to Oklahoma.”</p> + +<p>“Me for Texas,” announced his companion. “I change at the next +junction. No, the nearest I ever come to working in the oil fields is +filling tanks for the cars in my father’s garage. But o’ course I +know oil—the streets run with it down our way, and they use it to +flush the irrigation system. And I’ve seen some of the raw deals +these sharpers put through—doing widows and orphans out of their +land. Makes you have a mighty small opinion of the law, I declare it +does.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke the train slowed up, then stopped.</p> + +<p>“No station,” puzzled the Texan. “Let’s go and find out the trouble.”</p> + +<p>He started for the door, and then the train started, bumped, and came +to a standstill again.</p> + +<p>“You go ahead!” shouted Bob. “I have to go back and see that my +friend is all right.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>BLOCKED TRAFFIC</h3> + +<p>All was uproar and confusion in the coaches through which Bob had to +pass to reach the car where he knew Betty was. Distracted mothers +with frightened, crying children charged up and down the aisles, +excited men ran through, and the wildest guesses flew about. The +consensus of opinion was that they had hit something!</p> + +<p>“Oh, Bob!” Betty greeted him with evident relief when he at last +reached her. “What has happened? Is any one hurt? Will another train +come up behind us and run into us?”</p> + +<p>This last was a cheerful topic broached by the fussy little man whose +capacity for going ahead and meeting trouble was boundless.</p> + +<p>“Of course not!” Bob’s scorn was more reassuring than the gentlest +answer. “As soon as a train stops they set signals to warn traffic. +What a horrible racket every one is making! They’re all screeching at +once. Get your hat, Betty, and we’ll go and find out something +definite. I don’t know any more than you do, but I can’t stand this +noise.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>Betty was glad to get away from the babble of sound, and they went +down the first set of steps and joined the procession that was +picking its way over the ties toward the engine.</p> + +<p>“Express due in three minutes,” said a brakeman warningly, hurrying +past them. “Stand well back from the tracks.”</p> + +<p>He went on, cautioning every one he passed, and a majority of the +passengers swerved over to the wide cinder path on the other side of +the second track. A few persisted in walking the ties.</p> + +<p>“Here she comes! Look out!” Bob shouted, as a trail of smoke became +visible far up the track.</p> + +<p>He had insisted that Betty stand well away from the track, and now +the few persistent ones who had remained on the cleared track +scrambled madly to reach safety. A woman who walked with a cane, and +who had overridden her young-woman attendant’s advice that she stay +in the coach until news of the accident, whatever it was, could be +brought to her, was almost paralyzed with nervous fright. Bob went to +her distressed attendant’s aid, and between them they half-carried, +half-dragged the stubborn old person from the shining rails.</p> + +<p>“Toto!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>Bob stared, but Betty’s quick eye had seen. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>There, in the middle of +the track, sat a fluffy little dog, its eyes so thickly screened with +hair that it is doubtful if it could see three inches before its +shining black nose. This was Toto, and the rush of events had +completely bewildered him. The dog was accustomed to being held on +its mistress’ lap or carried about in a covered basket, but she had +decided that a short walk would give the little beast needed +exercise, and it had pantingly tagged along after her, obedient, as +usual, to her whims. Now she had suddenly disappeared. Well, Toto +must sit down and wait for her to come back. Perhaps she might miss +him and come after him right away.</p> + +<p>The thundering noise of the train was clearly audible when Betty +swooped down on the patient Toto, grabbed him by his fluffy neck, and +sprang back. Bob, turning from his charge, had caught a glimpse of +the girl as she dashed toward something on the track, and now as she +jumped he grasped her arm and pulled her toward him. He succeeded in +dragging her back several rods, but they both stumbled and fell. +There was a yelp of protest from Toto, drowned in the mighty shriek +and roar of the train. The great Eastern Limited swept past them, +rocking the ground, sending out a cloud of black smoke shot with +sparks, and letting fall a rain of gritty cinders.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you ever let me catch you doing anything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>like that again!” +scolded Bob, getting to his feet and helping Betty up. “Of all the +foolish acts! Why, you would have been struck if you’d made a +misstep. What possessed you, Betty?”</p> + +<p>“Toto,” answered Betty, dimpling, brushing the dirt from her skirts +and daintily shaking out the fluffy dog. “See what a darling he is, +Bob. Do you suppose I could let a train run over him?”</p> + +<p>Bob admitted, grudgingly, for he was still nervous and shaken, that +Toto was a “cute mutt,” and then, when they had restored him to his +grateful mistress, they went on to their goal. No one had noticed +Betty’s narrow escape, for all had been concerned with their own +safety. Betty herself was inclined to minimize the danger, but Bob +knew that she might easily have been drawn under the wheels by the +suction, if not actually overtaken on the track.</p> + +<p>There was a crowd about the engine, and the grimy-faced engineer +leaned from his cab, inspecting them impassively. His general +attitude was one of boredom, tinged with disgust.</p> + +<p>“Guess they’ve all been telling him what to do,” whispered Bob, who, +while only a lad, had a trick of correctly estimating situations.</p> + +<p>Pressing their way close in, he and Betty were at last able to see +what had stopped the train. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>The high wind, which was still blowing +with undiminished force, had blown down a huge tree. It lay directly +across the track, and barely missed the east-bound rails.</p> + +<p>“Another foot, and she’d have tied up traffic both ways,” said the +brakeman who had warned the passengers of the approach of the +express. “What you going to do, Jim?”</p> + +<p>The engineer sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>“Got to wait till it’s sawed in pieces small enough for a gang to +handle,” he answered. “We’ve sent to Tippewa for a cross-cut saw. +Take us from now till the first o’ the month to saw that trunk with +the emergency saws.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Tippewa?” called out an inquisitive passenger. “Any +souvenirs there?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. Indian baskets and that kind of truck,” volunteered the young +brakeman affably, as the engineer did not deign to answer. “’Bout a +mile, maybe a mile and a half, straight up the track. We don’t stop +there. You’ll have plenty of time, won’t he, Jim?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll be here a matter of three hours or more,” admitted the +engineer.</p> + +<p>“Let’s walk to the town, Betty,” suggested Bob. “We don’t want to +hang around here for three hours. All this country looks alike.”</p> + +<p>Apparently half the passengers had decided that a trip to the town +promised a break in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>monotony of a long train trip, and the track +resembled the main street of Pineville on a holiday. Every one walked +on the track occupied by the stalled train, and so felt secure.</p> + +<p>“Bob,” whispered Betty presently, “look. Aren’t those the two men you +followed this morning? Just ahead of us—see the gray suits? And did +you hear anything to report?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I haven’t told you, have I?” said Bob contritely. “The train +stopping put it out of my mind. What do you think, Betty, they were +talking about the Saunders place! Can you imagine that?”</p> + +<p>“The Saunders place?” echoed Betty, stopping short. “Why, Bob, do you +suppose—do you think——”</p> + +<p>“Sure! It must be the farm my aunts live on,” nodded Bob. “Saunders +isn’t such a common name, you know. Besides, the one they call Dan +Carson—he isn’t with them, guess he is too fat to enjoy +walking—said it was owned by a couple of old maids. Oh, it is the +right place, I’m sure of it. And I count on your Uncle Dick’s knowing +where it is, since they spoke of the farm being in the heart of the +oil section.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you suppose they’re going now?” speculated Betty.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I judge they want to see the sights, same as we do,” replied Bob +carelessly. “Perhaps <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>they count on fleecing some confiding Tippewa +citizen out of his hard-earned wealth. They can’t do much in three +hours, though, and I think they’re booked to go right on through to +Oklahoma. Of course I don’t know how crooks work their schemes, but +it seems to me if you want to make money, honestly or dishonestly, in +oil, you go where oil is.”</p> + +<p>Betty Gordon was not given to long speeches, but when she did speak +it was usually to the point.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think they’re going back to the train,” she announced +quietly. “They’re carrying their suitcases.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you know about that!” Bob addressed a telegraph pole. +“Here I am making wild guesses, and she takes one look at the men +themselves and tells their plans. Do I need glasses? I begin to think +I do.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t guess their plans,” protested Betty. “Anyway, perhaps they +were afraid to leave their bags in the car.”</p> + +<p>“No, it looks very much to me as though they had said farewell to the +Western Limited,” said Bob. “They wouldn’t carry those heavy cases a +mile unless they meant to leave for good. Let’s keep an eye on them, +because if they are going to ‘work’ the Saunders place, I’d like to +see how they intend to go about it.”</p> + +<p>For some time the boy and girl tramped in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>silence, keeping Blosser +and Fluss in view. A large billboard, blown flat, was the first sign +that they were approaching Tippewa.</p> + +<p>“I hope there is a soda fountain,” said Betty thirstily. “The wind’s +worse now we’re out of the woods, isn’t it? Do you suppose those +sharpers think they can get another train from here?”</p> + +<p>“Tippewa doesn’t look like a town with many trains,” opined Bob. “I +confess I don’t see what they expect to do, or where they can go. +Here comes an automobile, though. Can’t be such an out-of-date town +after all.”</p> + +<p>The automobile was driven by a man in blue-striped overalls, and, to +the surprise of Bob and Betty, Blosser and Fluss hailed him from the +road. There was a minute’s parley, the suitcases were tossed in, and +the two men followed. The automobile turned sharply and went back +along the route it had just come over.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>BETWEEN TRAINS</h3> + +<p>Bob looked at Betty, and Betty stared at Bob.</p> + +<p>“What do you know about that!” gasped the boy. “They couldn’t have +arranged for the car to meet them, because the tree blowing down was +an accident pure and simple. Where can they be going?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Betty practically. “But here’s a drug store and +I must have something cold to drink. My throat feels dried with dust. +Why don’t you ask the drug clerk whose car that was?”</p> + +<p>Bob acted upon this excellent suggestion, and while Betty was +recovering from her disappointment in finding no ice-cream for sale +and doing her best to quench her thirst with a bottle of lukewarm +lemon soda, Bob interviewed the grizzled proprietor of the store.</p> + +<p>“A small car painted a dull red you say?” this individual repeated +Bob’s question. “Must ’a’ been Fred Griggs. He hires out whenever he +can get anybody to tote round.”</p> + +<p>“But where does anybody go?” asked Bob, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>feeling that his query was +not couched in the most complimentary terms, but unable to amend it +quickly.</p> + +<p>The drug store owner was not critical.</p> + +<p>“Oh, folks go over to Xville,” he said indifferently. “That’s a new +town fifteen miles back. They say oil was discovered there some +twenty years ago, but others claim nothing but water ever flowed. +That’s how it came to be called Xville. I guess if the truth was +known, the wells wasn’t oil—we’re a little out of the belt here.”</p> + +<p>That was as far as Bob was able to follow the sharpers. He had no way +of knowing certainly whether they had gone to Xville, or whether they +had hired the car to take them to some other place nearer or further +on. Betty finished her soda and they strolled about the single street +for a half hour, buying three collapsible Indian baskets for the +Littell girls, since they would easily pack into Betty’s bag.</p> + +<p>They reached the train to find the last section of the big tree being +lifted from the track, and half an hour later, all passengers aboard, +the train resumed its journey. Bob and Betty had eaten lunch in the +town, and they spent the afternoon on the observation platform, Betty +tatting and Bob trying to write a letter to Mr. Littell. They were +glad to have their berths made up early that night, for both planned +to be up at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>six o’clock the next morning when the train, the +conductor told them, crossed the line into Oklahoma. Betty cherished +an idea that the State in which she was so much interested would be +“different” in some way from the country through which they had been +passing.</p> + +<p>The good-natured conductor was on hand the next morning to point out +to them the State line, and Betty, under his direct challenge, had to +admit that she could see nothing distinguishing about the scenery.</p> + +<p>“Wait till you see the oil wells,” said the conductor cheerfully. +“You’ll know you’re in Oklahoma then, little lady.”</p> + +<p>Bob and Betty were to change at Chassada to make connections for +Flame City, where Betty’s Uncle Dick was stationed, and soon after +breakfast the brakeman called the name of the station and they +descended from the train. As it rolled on they both were conscious of +a momentary feeling of loneliness, for in the long journey from +Washington they had grown accustomed to their comfortable quarters +and to the kindly train crew.</p> + +<p>They had an hour to wait in Chassada, and Bob suggested that they +leave their bags at the station and walk around the town.</p> + +<p>“I believe they have oil wells near here,” he said. “Some one on the +train—oh, I know who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>it was, that lanky chap from Texas—was +telling me that from the outskirts of the place you can see oil +wells. Or perhaps we can get a bus to take us out to the fields and +bring us back.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” protested Betty. “I know Uncle Dick is counting on showing +us the wells and explaining them to us, Bob. Don’t let us bother +about going up close to a well—we can see enough from the town +limits. Look, there’s one now!”</p> + +<p>They had reached the edge of the narrow, straggling group of streets +that was all of Chassada, and now Betty pointed toward the west where +tall iron framework rose in the air. There were six of these +structures, and, even at that distance, the boy and girl could see +men working busily about at the base of the frames.</p> + +<p>“Looks just like the postcards your uncle sent, doesn’t it?” said Bob +delightedly. “Gee! I’d like to see just how they drive them. Well, I +suppose before we’re a week older we’ll know how to drive a well and +what to do with the oil when it finally flows. You’ll be talking oil +as madly as any of them then, Betty.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I shall,” admitted Betty. “Do you know, I’m hungry. I +wonder if there is any place we can eat?”</p> + +<p>“Must be,” said the optimistic Bob. “Come on, we’ll go up this +street. Perhaps there will be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>some kind of a restaurant. Never heard +of a town without a place to eat.”</p> + +<p>But Bob began to think presently that perhaps Chassada differed in +more ways than one from the towns to which he was accustomed. In the +first place, though every one seemed to have plenty of money—there +was a neat and attractive jewelry store conspicuous between a barber +shop and a grain store—no one seemed to have to work. The streets +were unpaved, the sidewalks of rough boards in many places, in others +no walks at all were attempted. Many of the buildings were mere +shacks incongruously painted in brilliant colors, and there were more +dogs than were ever before gathered into one place. Of that Bob was +sure.</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose they’ve all made fortunes in oil?” Betty ventured, +scanning the groups of men and boys that filled every doorway and +lounged at the corners. “No one is working, Bob. Who runs the wells?”</p> + +<p>“Different shifts, I suppose,” answered Bob. “I declare, Betty, I’m +not so sure that you’ll get anything to eat after all. We’ll go back +to the station; they may have sandwiches or cake or something like +that on sale there.”</p> + +<p>They turned down another street that led to the station, Bob in the +lead. He heard a little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>cry from Betty, and turned to find that she +had disappeared.</p> + +<p>“The lady fell down that hole!” shouted a man, hurrying across the +street. “There go the barrels! I told Zinker he ought to have braced +that dirt!”</p> + +<p>Bob, still not understanding, saw four large barrels that had stood +on the sidewalk slowly topple over the side of an excavation and roll +out of sight.</p> + +<p>“She went in, too,” cried the man, scrambling over the edge. “Are you +hurt, lady?” he called.</p> + +<p>“Betty!” shouted Bob. “Betty, are you hurt?” He took a flying leap to +the edge of the hole, and, having miscalculated the distance, slid +over after the barrels.</p> + +<p>Over and over he rolled, bringing up breathless against something +soft.</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d come to get me,” giggled Betty, “but you needn’t have +hurried. Are there any more barrels coming?”</p> + +<p>Bob was immensely relieved to find that she was unhurt. The barrels +had luckily been empty and had rolled over and into her harmlessly.</p> + +<p>“Well, looks like you’re all right,” grinned the Chassada citizen who +had followed Bob more leisurely. “Let me help you up this grade. +There now, you’re fine and dandy, barring a little dirt that will +wash off. George Zinker excavated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>last winter for a house, and then +didn’t build. I always told him the walk was shifty. You’re strangers +in town, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>Bob explained that they were only waiting over between trains.</p> + +<p>“So you’re going to Flame City!” exclaimed their new friend with +interest when Bob mentioned their destination. “I hear they’ve struck +it rich in the fields. Buying up everything in sight, they say. We +had a well come in last week. Hope you have a place to stay, though; +Flame City isn’t much more than a store and a post-office.”</p> + +<p>Betty looked up from rubbing her skirt with her clean handkerchief in +an endeavor to remove some of the gravel stains.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t Flame City larger than Chassada?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Larger? Why, Chassada is four or five years ahead,” explained the +Chassada man. “We’ve got a hotel and three boarding houses, and next +month they’re fixing to put up a movie theater. Flame City wasn’t on +the map six months ago. That’s why I say I hope you have a place to +go—you’ll have to rough it, anyway, but accommodations is mighty +scarce.”</p> + +<p>Bob assured him that some one was to meet them, and then asked about +a restaurant.</p> + +<p>“If you can stand Jake Hill’s cooking, turn in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>at that white door +down the street,” was the advice, emphasized by a graphic forefinger. +“Lay off the custard pie, ’cause he generally makes it with sour +milk. Apple pie is fair, and his doughnuts is good. No thanks at +all—glad to accommodate a stranger.”</p> + +<p>The white door indicated opened into a little low, dark room that +smelled of all the pies ever baked and several dishes besides. There +were several oilcloth-topped tables scattered about, and one or two +patrons were eating. As Bob and Betty entered a great gust of +laughter came from a corner table where a group of men were gathered.</p> + +<p>“Guess that was good advice about the custard pie,” whispered Bob +mischievously. “Think you can stand it, Betty?”</p> + +<p>“I’m so hungry, I could stand anything,” declared Betty with vigor. +“I’d like a couple of sandwiches and a glass of milk. I guess you +have to go up to that counter and bring your orders back with you—I +don’t see any waiters.”</p> + +<p>Bob went up to the counter, and Betty sat down at a vacant table and +looked about her.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>QUICK ACTION</h3> + +<p>A dirty-faced clock on the wall told Betty that it was within twenty +minutes of the time their train was due. However, they were within +sight of the station, so, provided Bob was quickly waited upon, there +was no reason to worry about missing the connection.</p> + +<p>Bob came back, balancing the sandwiches and milk precariously, and +they proceeded to make a hearty lunch, their appetites sharpened by +the clear Western air, in a measure compensating for the sawdust +bread and the extreme blueness of the milk.</p> + +<p>“What are those men laughing about, I wonder,” commented Betty idly, +as a fresh burst of laughter came from the table in the corner of the +room. “What a noise they make! Bob, do I imagine it, or does this +bread taste of oil?”</p> + +<p>Bob laughed, and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the +counter-man could not hear.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, I thought that very thing,” he confessed. “I wasn’t +going to mention it, for fear you’d think I was obsessed with the +notion <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>of oil. To tell you the truth, Betsey, I think this bread has +been near the kerosene oil can, not an oil well.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we can drink the milk,” said Betty philosophically. “It’s +lucky one sandwich apiece was good. Oh, won’t it be fine to get to +Flame City and see Uncle Dick! I want to get where we are going, +Bob!”</p> + +<p>“Sure you do,” responded Bob sympathetically, frowning with annoyance +as another hoarse burst of laughter came from the corner table. “But +I’m afraid Flame City isn’t going to be much of a place after all.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care what kind of place it is,” declared Betty firmly. “All +I want is to see Uncle Dick and be with him. And I want you to find +your aunts. And I’d like to go to school with the Littell girls next +fall. And that’s all.”</p> + +<p>Bob smiled, then grew serious.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to go to school myself,” he said soberly. “Precious little +schooling I’ve had, Betty. I’ve read all I could, but you can’t get +anywhere without a good, solid foundation. Well, there’ll be time +enough to worry about that when school time comes. Just now it is +vacation.”</p> + +<p>“Bob!”—Betty spoke swiftly—“look what those men are doing—teasing +that poor Chinaman. How can they be so mean!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>Sure enough, one of the group had slouched forward in his chair, and +over his bent shoulders Bob and Betty could see an unhappy Chinaman, +clutching his knife and fork tightly and looking with a hunted +expression in his slant eyes from one to another of his tormentors. +They were evidently harassing him as he ate, for while they watched +he took a forkful of the macaroni on the plate before him, and +attempted to convey it to his mouth. Instantly one of the men +surrounding him struck his arm sharply, and the food flew into the +air. Then the crowd laughed uproariously.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that perfectly disgusting!” scolded Betty. “How any one can +see anything funny in doing that is beyond me. Oh, now look—they’ve +got his slippers.”</p> + +<p>The unfortunate Chinaman’s loose flat slippers hurtled through the +air, narrowly missing Betty’s head.</p> + +<p>“Come on, we’re going to get out of this,” said Bob determinedly, +rising from his seat. “Those chaps once start rough-housing, no +telling where they’ll bring up. We want to escape the dishes, and +besides we haven’t any too much time to make our train.”</p> + +<p>He had paid for their food when he ordered it, so there was nothing +to hinder their going out. Bob started for the door, supposing that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>Betty was following. But she had seen something that roused her +anger afresh.</p> + +<p>The poor Celestial was essaying an ineffectual protest at the +treatment of his slippers, when a man opposite him reached over and +snatched his plate of food.</p> + +<p>“China for Chinamen!” he shouted, and with that clapped the plate +down on the unfortunate victim’s head with so much force that it +shivered into several pieces.</p> + +<p>Betty could never bear to see a person or an animal unfairly treated, +and when, as now, the odds were all against one, she became a +veritable little fury. As Bob had once said in a mixture of +admiration and despair she wasn’t old enough to be afraid of anything +or anybody.</p> + +<p>“How dare you treat him like that!” she cried, running to the table +where the Chinaman sat in a daze. “You ought to be arrested! If you +must torment some one, why don’t you get somebody who can fight +back?”</p> + +<p>The men stared at her open-mouthed, bewildered by her unexpected +championship of their bait. Then a great, coarse, blowzy-faced man, +with enormous grease spots on his clothes, winked at the others.</p> + +<p>“My eye, we’ve a visitor,” he drawled. “Sit down, my dear, and John +Chinaman shall bring you chop suey for lunch.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>Betty drew back as he put out a huge hand.</p> + +<p>“You leave her alone!” Bob had come after Betty and stood glaring at +the greasy individual. “Anybody who’ll treat a foreigner as you’ve +treated that Chinaman isn’t fit to speak to a girl!”</p> + +<p>A concerted growl greeted this statement.</p> + +<p>“If you’re looking for a fight,” snarled a younger man, “you’ve +struck the right place. Come on, or eat your words.”</p> + +<p>Now Bob was no coward, but there were five men arrayed against him +with a probable sixth in the form of the counter-man who was watching +the turn of affairs with great interest from the safe vantage-point +of his high counter. It was too much to expect that any men who had +dealt with a defenceless and handicapped stranger as these had dealt +with the Chinaman would fight fair. Besides, Bob was further hampered +by the terrified Betty who clung tightly to his arm and implored him +not to fight. It seemed to the lad that the better part of valor +would be to take to his heels.</p> + +<p>“You cut for the station,” he muttered swiftly to Betty. “Get the +bags—train’s almost due. I’ll run up the street and lose ’em +somewhere on the way. They won’t touch you.”</p> + +<p>He said this hardly moving his lips, and Betty did not catch every +word. But she heard enough <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>to understand what was expected of her +and what Bob planned to do. She loosened her hold on his arm.</p> + +<p>Like a shot, Bob made for the door, banged the screen open wide +(Betty heard it hit the side of the building), and fled up the +straggling, uneven street. Instantly the five toughs were in pursuit.</p> + +<p>Betty heard the counter-man calling to her, but she ran from the +place and sped toward the station. It was completely deserted, and a +written sign proclaimed that the 1:52 train was ten minutes late. +Betty judged that the ticket agent, with whom they had left their +bags, would return in time to check them out, and she sat down on one +of the dusty seats in the fly-specked waiting-room to wait for the +arrival of Bob.</p> + +<p>That young man, as he ran, was racking his brains for a way to elude +his pursuers. There were no telegraph poles to climb, and even if +there had been, he wanted to get to Betty and the station, not be +marooned indefinitely. He glanced back. The hoodlums, for such they +were, were gaining on him. They were out of training, but their +familiarity with the walks gave them a decided advantage. Bob had to +watch out for holes and sidewalk obstructions.</p> + +<p>He doubled down a street, and then the solution opened out before +him. There was a grocery <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>store, evidently a large shop, for he had +noticed the front door on the street where the restaurant was +situated. Now he was approaching the rear entrance and a number of +packing cases cluttered the walk, and excelsior was lying about. A +backward glance showed him that the enemy had not yet rounded the +corner. Bob dived into the store.</p> + +<p>“Hide me!” he gasped, running plump into a white-haired man in +overalls who was whistling “Ben Bolt” and opening cases of canned +peaches with pleasant dexterity. “Hide me quick. There’s a gang after +me—five of ’em!”</p> + +<p>“Under the counter, Sonny,” said the groceryman, hardly looking at +Bob. “Just lay low, and trust Micah Davis to ’tend to the scamps.”</p> + +<p>Bob crawled under the nearest counter and in a few minutes he heard +the men at the door.</p> + +<p>“’Lo, Davis,” said one conciliatingly. “Seen anything of a fresh +kid—freckled, good clothes, right out of the East? He tried to pass +some bad money at Jake Hill’s. Seen him?”</p> + +<p>Bob nearly denounced this lie, but common sense saved him. Small use +in seeking protection and then refusing it.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t seen anybody like that,” said the groceryman positively. +“Quit bruising those tomatoes, Bud.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he won’t get out of town,” stated Bud <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>sourly. “There’s a girl +with him, and they’re figuring on taking the one-fifty-two. We’re +going down and picket the station. If Mr. Smarty gets on that train +at all, his face won’t look so pretty.”</p> + +<p>They tramped off, and Bob came out from his hiding place.</p> + +<p>“They’re a nice bunch!” he declared bitterly. “I got into a row with +’em because they were teasing a poor Chinaman and Betty Gordon landed +on them for that. Then I tried to get her away from the place, and of +course that started a fight. But I suppose they can dust the station +with me if they’re set on it—only I’ll register a few protests.”</p> + +<p>“Now, now, we ain’t a-going to have no battle,” announced the genial +Mr. Davis. “I knew Bud was lying soon as I looked at him. Why? ’Cause +I never knew him to tell the truth. As for picketing the station, +well, there’s more ways than one to skin a cat.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>A YANKEE FRIEND</h3> + +<p>Micah Davis was a Yankee, as he proudly told Bob, “born and raised in +New Hampshire,” and his shrewd common sense and dry humor stood him +in good stead in the rather lawless environment of Chassada. He was +well acquainted with the unlovely characteristics of the five who had +chased Bob, and when he heard the whole story he promised to look up +the Chinaman and see what he could do for him.</p> + +<p>“If he’s out of a job, I’d like to hire him,” he said. “They’re good, +steady workers, and born cooks. He can have the room back of the +store and do his own housekeeping. I’ll stop in at Jake’s this +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Bob was in a fever of fear that he would miss the train, and it was +now a quarter of two. But Mr. Davis assured him that that special +train was always late and that there was “all the time in the world +to get to the station.”</p> + +<p>“I’m expecting some canned goods to come up from Wayne,” he declared, +“and I often go down after such stuff with my wheelbarrow. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>Transportation’s still limited with us, as you may have guessed. I +calculate the best way to fool those smart Alecs is to put you in an +empty packing case and tote you down. Comes last minute, you can jump +out and there you are!”</p> + +<p>Bob thought this a splendid plan, and said so.</p> + +<p>“Then here’s the very case, marked ‘Flame City’ on purpose-like,” was +the cheery rejoinder. “Help me lift it on the barrow, and then you +climb in, and we’ll make tracks. Comfortable? All right, we’re off.”</p> + +<p>He adjusted the light lid over the top of the box, which was +sufficiently roomy to allow Bob to sit down, and the curious journey +began. Apparently it was a common occurrence for Mr. Davis to take a +shipment of goods that way, for no one commented. As the wheelbarrow +grated on the crushed stone that surrounded the station, Bob heard +the voice of the man called Bud.</p> + +<p>“One-fifty-two’s late, as usual,” he called. “That young scalawag +hasn’t turned up, either. Guess he’s going to keep still till the +last minute and figure on getting away with a dash. The girl’s in the +waiting-room.”</p> + +<p>“I’m surprised you’re not in there looking in her suitcase for the +young reprobate,” said Mr. Davis with thinly veiled sarcasm. “What +happened? Did Carl order you out?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>Carl, the listening Bob judged, must be the ticket agent.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see that whippersnapper order me out!” blustered Bud. +“There’s a whole raft of women in there, waiting for the train.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Davis carefully lowered the wheelbarrow and leaned carelessly +against the box.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll go in and see the girl—like to know how she looks,” he +observed a bit more loudly than was necessary.</p> + +<p>Bob understood that he was going to explain to Betty and he thanked +him silently with all his heart.</p> + +<p>The friendly Mr. Davis strolled into the waiting-room and had no +difficulty in recognizing Betty Gordon. She was the only girl in the +room, in the first place, and she sat facing the door, a bag on +either side of her, and a world of anxiety in her dark eyes. The +groceryman crossed the floor and took the vacant seat at her right. +There was no one within earshot.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be scared, Miss,” he said quietly. “I’m Micah Davis, and I +just want to tell you that everything’s all right with that Bob boy. +I’ve got him out here in a box, and when the train comes he’s a-going +to hop on board before you can say Jack Robinson.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you dear!” Betty turned upon the astonished Mr. Davis with a +radiant smile. “I was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>worried to death about him, because those +dreadful men have been hanging around the station, and they keep +peering in here. You’re so good to help Bob!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Davis stammered confusedly that he had done nothing, and then +hurried on to advise Betty to pay no attention to anything that might +happen, but to let the conductor help her on the train.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to wheel the lad down toward the baggage car,” he +explained, “so’s they won’t suspect. You see, Miss, this is an oil +town and folks do pretty much as they please. If a gang want to beat +up a stranger they don’t find much opposition. In a few years we’ll +have better order, but just now the toughs have it. Sorry you had to +have this experience.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll always remember Chassada pleasantly because of you,” said Betty +impulsively. “Hark! Isn’t that the train? Yes, it is. Don’t mind +me—go back to Bob. I’m all right, honestly I am!”</p> + +<p>They shook hands hurriedly, and Betty followed the other passengers +out to the platform. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Davis placidly +trundling his wheelbarrow down the platform, and then the train +pulled in and the conductor helped her aboard.</p> + +<p>“Express?” called the baggage car man as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>wheelbarrow was halted +beside the truck on which he was tumbling a pile of boxes.</p> + +<p>“Sure, express,” retorted Mr. Davis. “Live stock this time. A +passenger for you, with his ticket and all. Let him go through to the +coaches, George. It’s all right. He’ll explain.”</p> + +<p>He lifted the lid of the box and Bob stepped out. The baggage man +stared, but he knew and trusted Mr. Davis.</p> + +<p>“Don’t thank me, lad,” said the groceryman kindly as Bob tried to +pour out his thanks. “You’re from my part of the country, and any boy +in trouble claims my help. There, there, for goodness’ sake, are you +going to miss the train after all the trouble I’ve taken?”</p> + +<p>He pushed Bob gently toward the door of the baggage car and the boy +scrambled in. Then, and not until then, did the vociferous Bud see +what was going on. He dared not tackle the groceryman, but he came +running pellmell down the platform to bray at Bob.</p> + +<p>“You big coward!” he yelled. “Sneaking away, aren’t you? Just let me +catch you in this town again, and I’ll make it so hot for you you’ll +wish you’d never left your kindergarten back East.”</p> + +<p>He was so angry he fairly danced with rage, and Bob and the baggage man both had to laugh.</p> + +<p>“Laugh, you big boob!” howled Bud. “You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>wouldn’t think it so funny +if I had you by the collar. ’Fraid to fight, aren’t you? You wait! +Some day I’ll get you and I’ll—I’ll drown you!”</p> + +<p>Bud had made an unfortunate choice of punishment, for his words +carried a suggestion to Bob. Mail and express was still being +unloaded, and beside the track was a large puddle of oily, dirty +water apparently from a leaky pipe, for there were no indications of +a recent rain.</p> + +<p>With a swift spring, Bob was on his feet beside the surprised Bud, +and, seizing him, whirled him sharply about. Then with a strong push +he sent him flat into the puddle.</p> + +<p>Sputtering, gasping, and actually crying with rage, the bully +stumbled to his feet and charged blindly for Bob. That agile youth +had turned and dashed for the train, which was now slowly moving. He +caught the steps of the baggage car and drew himself up. Once on the +platform he turned to wave to Mr. Davis, but that good citizen was +holding back the foaming Bud from dashing himself against the wheels +and did not see Bob’s farewell.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” gasped Bob, making his way to Betty, after going through an +apparently endless number of cars, “our Western adventures begin with +a rush, don’t they? I’m hoping Flame City will be peaceful, for I’ve +had enough excitement to last me a week.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><p>“I wish Mr. Davis lived in Flame City,” said Betty warmly. “I never +knew any one to be kinder. Imagine all the trouble he took for you, +Bob.”</p> + +<p>Bob agreed that the groceryman was a living example of the Golden +Rule, and then the sight of oil derricks in the distance changed the +trend of their thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Where do you suppose those two sharpers—what were their +names?—could have gone?” said Betty. “Seems to me, there are a lot +of unpleasant people out here, after all.”</p> + +<p>“You mean Blosser and Fluss,” replied Bob. “I don’t know where they +went, but I’m certain they are not up to anything good. Still, it +isn’t fair to say we’ve come in contact with a lot of unpleasant +people, Betty. All new developments have to fight against the +undesirable element, Mr. Littell says. You see, the prospect of +making money would naturally attract them, and that, coupled with the +possibility of meeting trusting and ignorant souls who have a little +and want to make more, draws the crooks. It has always been that way. +Haven’t you read about the things that happened in California when +there was the rush of gold seekers?”</p> + +<p>Betty was not especially interested in the gold seekers, but the +glimpses she had had of the oil industry fascinated her. She hoped +that her Uncle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>Dick would have time to take them around, and she was +divided between an automobile and a horse as the choicest medium of +sightseeing.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’d like to ride,” declared Bob when she sought his opinion. +“I’ve always wanted to. But I don’t intend to see the sights, +altogether, Betty. I want to find my aunts, and then, if possible, +I’d like to get a job. There must be plenty for a boy to do out +here.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ve been working all summer,” protested Betty. “You’re as +thin as a rail now. I know Uncle Dick won’t let you go to work. Why, +Bob, I counted on your going around with me! We can have such fun +together.”</p> + +<p>“Well, of course, there will be lots of odd hours,” Bob comforted +her. “I don’t intend to borrow any more money, Betty, that’s flat. +And if I don’t get my share in the farm, that is, if it proves my +mother never had any sisters and never was entitled to a share of +anything, I don’t intend to let that be the end of my ambitions. I’m +going to school, if it takes an arm!”</p> + +<p>Betty gazed at him respectfully. Bob, when in earnest, was a very +convincing talker. She wondered for a moment what he would be when he +grew up.</p> + +<p>“We’re coming into Flame City,” he warned her before she could put +this thought into words. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>“Tip your hat straight, Betsey, and take +the camera. I can manage both bags.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope Uncle Dick will meet us!” Betty was so excited she bumped +her nose against the glass trying to see out of the window. “Look, +Bob, just see those derricks! This is surely an oil town!”</p> + +<p>The brakes went down, and the brakeman at the end of the car flung +the door open.</p> + +<p>“Flame City!” he shouted. “All out for Flame City!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>FLAME CITY</h3> + +<p>Bob and Betty descended the steps and found themselves on a rough +platform with an unpainted shelter in the center that evidently did +duty as a station. There were a few straggling loungers about, a team +or two backed up to the platform, and a small automobile of the +runabout type, red with rust.</p> + +<p>“Well, bless her heart, how she’s grown!” cried a cordial voice, and +Mr. Richard Gordon had Betty in his arms.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Dick! You don’t know how glad I am to see you!” Betty hugged +him tight, thankful that the worry and anxiety and uncertainty of the +last few weeks, while she had waited in Washington to hear from him, +was at last over. “How tanned you are!” she added.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m a regular Indian,” was the laughing response. “This must be +Bob? Glad to see you, my boy. I feel that I already know you.”</p> + +<p>He and Bob shook hands heartily. Mr. Gordon was tall and muscular, +with closely-cropped gray hair and quizzical gray eyes slightly +puckered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>at the corners from much staring in the hot sun. His face +and hands were very brown, and he looked like a man who lead an +outdoor life and liked it.</p> + +<p>Bob took to him at once, and the feeling seemed to be mutual, for Mr. +Gordon kept a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder while he continued +to scan him smilingly.</p> + +<p>“Began to look as though we were never going to get together, didn’t +it?” Mr. Gordon said. “Last week there was a rumor that I might have +to go to China for the firm, and I thought if that happened Betty +would be in despair. However, that prospect is not immediate. Well, +young folks, what do you think of Flame City, off-hand?”</p> + +<p>Betty stared. From the station she could see half a dozen one-story +shacks and, beyond, the outline of oil well derricks. A straggling, +muddy road wound away from the buildings. Trolley cars, stores and +shops, brick buildings to serve as libraries and schools—there +seemed to be none.</p> + +<p>“Is this all of it?” she ventured.</p> + +<p>“You see before you,” declared Mr. Gordon gravely, “the rapidly +growing town of Flame City. Two months ago there wasn’t even a +station. We think we’ve done rather well, though I suppose to Eastern +eyes the signposts of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>flourishing town are conspicuous by their +absence.”</p> + +<p>“But where do people live?” demanded Betty, puzzled. “If they come +here to work or to buy land, isn’t there a hotel to live in? Where do +you live, Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>“Mostly in my tin boat,” was the answer. “Many’s the night I’ve slept +in the car. But of course I have a bunk out at the field. +Accommodations are extremely limited, Betty, I will admit. The few +houses that take in travelers are over-crowded and dirty. If some one +had enterprise enough to start a good hotel he’d make a fortune. But +like all oil towns, the fever is to sink one’s money in wells.”</p> + +<p>Betty’s eyes turned to the horizon where the steel towers reared +against the sky.</p> + +<p>“Can we go to see the oil fields now?” she asked. “We’re not a bit +tired, are we, Bob?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon surveyed his niece banteringly.</p> + +<p>“What is your idea of an oil field?” he teased. “A bit of pasture +neatly fenced in, say two or three acres in area? Did you know that +our company at present holds leases for over four thousand acres? The +nearest well is ten miles from this station. No, child, I don’t think +we’ll run out and look around before supper. I want to take you and +Bob to a place I’ve found where I think you’ll be comfortable. Have +you trunk checks? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>We’ll have to take all baggage with us, because +I’m leaving to-morrow for a three-day inspection trip, and the +Watterbys can’t be expected to do much hauling.”</p> + +<p>Bob had the checks, one for Betty’s trunk and another for a small +old-fashioned “telescope” he had bought cheaply in Washington and +which held his meagre supply of clothing.</p> + +<p>“We’ll stow everything in somehow,” promised Mr. Gordon cheerily, as +he and Bob carried the baggage over to the rusty little automobile. +“You wouldn’t think this machine would hold together an hour on these +roads,” he continued, “but she’s the best friend I have. Never +complains as long as the gasoline holds out. There! I think that will +stay put, Bob. Now in with you, Betty, and we’ll be off.”</p> + +<p>Bob perched himself upon the trunk, and Mr. Gordon took his place at +the wheel. With a grunt and a lurch, the car started.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you youngsters would like to know where you’re going,” +said Mr. Gordon, deftly avoiding the ruts in the miserable road. +“Well, I’ll warn you it is a farm, and probably Bramble Farm will +shine in contrast. But Flame City is impossible, and when everybody +is roughing it, you’ll soon grow used to the idea. The Watterbys are +nice folks, native farmers, and what they lack in initiative they +make up in kindness <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>of heart. I’m sorry I have to leave to-morrow +morning, but every minute counts, and I have no right to put personal +business first.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Bob.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what a help you are going to be,” he said heartily. +“I really doubt if I should have had Betty come, if at the last +moment she had not telegraphed me you were coming, too. It’s no place +out here for a girl—Oh, you needn’t try to wheedle me, my dear, I +know what I’m saying,” he interpolated in answer to an imploring look +from his niece. “No place for a girl,” he repeated firmly. “I shall +have no time to look after her, and she can’t roam the country wild. +Grandma Watterby is too old to go round with her, and the +daughter-in-law has her hands full. I’d like nothing better, Bob, +than to take you with me to-morrow, and you’d learn a lot of value to +you, too, on a trip of this kind. But I honestly want you to stay +with Betty; a brother is a necessity now if ever one was.”</p> + +<p>Bob flushed with pleasure. That Mr. Gordon, who had never seen him +and knew him only through Betty’s letters and those the Littells had +written, should put this trust in him touched the lad mightily. What +did he care about a tour of the oil fields if he could be of service +to a man like this? And he knew that Mr. Gordon was honest in his +wish to have his niece protected. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>Betty was high-spirited and +headstrong, and, having lived in settled communities all her life, +was totally ignorant of any other existence.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Uncle Dick,” broke in Betty at this point. “Do you know +anybody around here by the name of Saunders?”</p> + +<p>“Saunders?” repeated her uncle thoughtfully. “Why, no, I don’t +recollect ever having heard the name. But then, you see, I know +comparatively little about the surrounding country. I’ve fairly lived +at the wells this summer. I only stumbled on the Watterbys by chance +one day when my car broke down. Why? Do you know a family by that +name?”</p> + +<p>So Betty, helped out by Bob, explained their interest in the mythical +“Saunders place,” and Mr. Gordon listened in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Guess they’re the aunts you’re looking for, Bob,” he said briefly, +when he was in possession of the facts. “Couldn’t be many families of +that name around here, not unless they were related. Do you know, +there’s a lot of that tricky business afoot right here in Flame City? +People have lost their heads over oil, and the sight of a handful of +bills drives them crazy. The Watterby farm is one of the few places +that hasn’t been rushed by oil prospectors. That’s one reason why I +chose it.”</p> + +<p>They were now on a lonely stretch of road with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>gently rolling land +on either side of them, dotted with a scrubby growth of trees. Not a +house was in sight, and they had passed only one team, a pair of +mules harnessed to a wagon filled with lengths of iron pipe.</p> + +<p>“You’ll know all about oil before you’re through,” said Mr. Gordon +suddenly. Then he laughed.</p> + +<p>“It’s in the very air,” he explained. “We talk oil, think oil, and +sometimes I think, we eat oil. Leastways I know I’ve tasted it in the +air on more than one occasion.”</p> + +<p>Betty had been silently turning something over in her mind.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there danger from fire?” she asked presently.</p> + +<p>“There certainly is,” affirmed her uncle. “We’ve had one bad fire +this season, and I don’t suppose the subject is ever out of our minds +very long at a time. Sandbags are always kept ready, but let a well +get to burning once, and all the sandbags in the world won’t stop +it.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t want a well to burn,” said Bob slowly, “but if one +should, I shouldn’t mind seeing it.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t see much but thick smoke,” rejoined Mr. Gordon. “I’ve +some pictures of burning wells I’ll show you when I can get them out. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>Nothing but huge columns of heavy black smoke that smudges up the +landscape.”</p> + +<p>“Like the lamp that smoked one night when Mrs. Peabody turned it down +too low—remember, Bob?” suggested Betty. “Next morning everything in +the room was peppered with greasy soot.”</p> + +<p>“Look ahead, and you’ll see the Watterby farm—‘place,’ in the +vernacular of the countryside,” announced Mr. Gordon. “Unlike the +Eastern farms, very few homes are named. There’s Grandma Watterby +watching for us.”</p> + +<p>Bob and Betty looked with interest. They saw a gaunt, plain house, +two stories in height, without window blinds or porch of any sort, +and if ever painted now so weather-beaten that the original color was +indistinguishable. A few flowers bloomed around the doorstep but +there was no attempt at a lawn. A huddle of buildings back of the +house evidently made up the barns and out-houses, and chickens +stalked at will in the roadside.</p> + +<p>These fled, squawking, when Mr. Gordon ran the car into the ditch and +an old woman hobbled out to greet him.</p> + +<p>“Well, Grandma,” he called cheerily, raising his voice, for she was +slightly deaf, “I’ve brought you two young folks bag and baggage, +just as I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>promised. I suspect they’ve brought appetites with them, +too.”</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you,” said the old woman, putting out a gnarled hand. +Her eyes were bright and clear as a bird’s, and she had a quick, +darting way of glancing at one that was like a bird, too. “Emma’s got +the supper on,” she announced. “She’s frying chicken.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go in and tell Mrs. Watterby that she may count on me,” +declared Mr. Gordon jovially, as Bob jumped down and helped Betty +out. “I never miss a chance to eat fried chicken, never. I wonder if +it will be fried in oil?”</p> + +<p>“Emma uses lard,” said Grandma Watterby placidly.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>OLD INDIAN LORE</h3> + +<p>Mr. Gordon stayed over night, but was off early in the morning. Bob +and Betty watched his rickety car out of sight, and then, determined +to keep busy and happy, set out to explore the Watterby farm.</p> + +<p>The family, they had discovered at supper the night before, consisted +of Grandma Watterby, her son Will, a man of about forty-five, and the +daughter-in-law, Emma, a tall, silent woman with a wrinkled, leathery +skin, a harsh voice, and the kindest heart in the world. An Indian +helped Mr. Watterby run the farm. In addition there were two +boarders, a man and his wife who had come West for the latter’s +health and who, for the sake of the glorious air, put up with many +minor inconveniences. They were very homesick for the East, and asked +Bob and Betty many questions.</p> + +<p>“Just think, Bob,” said Betty, as she and Bob went out to the barn +(they had been told that they were free to go anywhere), “there’s no +running water in the house. Mrs. Watterby carries in every bit that’s +used for drinking and washing. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>She was up at four o’clock this +morning, carrying water to fill the tubs; she is doing the washing +now.”</p> + +<p>“Water’s as hard as a rock, too,” commented Bob. “I suppose that’s +the alkali. Did you notice how harsh and dry Mrs. Watterby’s face +looks? Seems to me I’d rather drill for water than for oil, and the +first thing I’d do would be to pump a line into the house. They’ve +lived on this farm for sixty years, your uncle said. At least Grandma +Watterby has. And I don’t believe they’ve done one thing to it, that +could be called an improvement.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s the Indian,” whispered Betty. “Make him talk, Bob. I like to +hear him.”</p> + +<p>The Indian had eaten at the same table with the family, after the +farm fashion, and Betty had been fascinated by the monosyllabic +replies he had given to questions asked him. He was patching a +harness in the doorway of the barn and glanced up unsmilingly at +them. Nevertheless he did not seem hostile or unfriendly.</p> + +<p>“You come to see oil fields?” he asked unexpectedly. “You help uncle +own big well, yes? Indians know about oil hundreds of years ago.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle Dick is working for a big oil company,” explained Betty. “I +don’t think he owns any wells himself. Tell us something about the +Indians? Are there many around here?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>There was an old sawhorse beside the door, and she sat down +comfortably on that, while Bob, picking up a handy stick of wood, +drew a knife from his pocket and began to whittle.</p> + +<p>The Indian was silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke slowly, his +needle stabbing the heavy leather at regular intervals.</p> + +<p>“Wherever there is oil, there were Indians once,” he announced. “Ask +any oil man and he will tell you. At Lake Erie, in Pennsylvania and +some parts of New York State, where dwelt the Iroquois, many years +after oil was found. It is true, for I have read and heard it.”</p> + +<p>“Were the Iroquois in New York State?” asked Bob interestedly. “I’ve +always read of the Mohawks, but not about them.”</p> + +<p>The Indian glanced at him gravely.</p> + +<p>“The Mohawks were an Iroquois tribe,” he explained courteously. +“Mohawks, Senecas, Tionontati, Cayuga, Oneida—all were tribes of the +Iroquois. Yes I see you recognize those names—many places in this +country have been named for Indians.”</p> + +<p>“Are you an Iroquois?” asked Betty, rather timidly, for she feared +lest the question should be considered impolite.</p> + +<p>“I am a Kiowa,” announced the redman proudly. “Oklahoma and Kansas +were the home of the Kiowas, the Pawnees and the Comanches. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>And you +see oil has been found here. In Texas, where the big oil fields are, +once roved Wichitas. The Dakotas, some tribes of which were the +Biloxi, the Opelousas and the Pascagoulas, lived on the gulf plains +of Louisiana. Out in southern California, where the oil wells now +flow, the Yokut Indians once owned the land. They tell me that where +oil had been discovered in Central America, petroleum seeps to the +surface of the land where once the Indian tribes were found.”</p> + +<p>“Did the Indians use the oil?” asked Bob. He, like Betty, was +fascinated with the musical names of the mysterious tribes as they +rolled easily from the Kiowa’s tongue.</p> + +<p>“Not as the white man does,” was the answer. “The Senecas skimmed the +streams for oil and sometimes spread blankets over the water till +they were heavy with the oil. They used oil for cuts and burns and +were famed for their skill in removing the water from the oil by +boiling. Dances and religious rites were observed with the aid of +oil. The Siouan Indians, who lived in West Virginia and Virginia, +knew, too, of natural gas. They tossed in burning brands and watched +the flames leap up from pits they themselves had dug.</p> + +<p>“You will find,” the Indian continued, evidently approving of the +rapt attention of his audience, “many wells now owned by Indians and +leased to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>white-men companies. The Osage have big holdings. They are +reservation Indians, mostly—perhaps they can not help that. I must +go to the plowing.”</p> + +<p>He gathered up his harness and went off to the field, and Bob and +Betty resumed their explorations, talking about him with interest. +Their tour of the shabby outbuildings was soon completed, and just in +time for a huge bell rung vigorously announced that dinner was on the +table.</p> + +<p>That afternoon they found Grandma Watterby braiding rugs under the +one large tree in the side yard, and she welcomed them warmly.</p> + +<p>“I was just wishing for some one to talk to,” she said cheerfully. +“Can’t you sit a while? There isn’t much for young ’uns to do, and I +says to your uncle it was a good thing there was two of you—at least +you can talk.”</p> + +<p>“What lovely rugs!” exclaimed Betty, examining the old woman’s work. +“See, Bob, they’re braided, just like the colonial rag rugs you see +in pictures. Can’t I do some?”</p> + +<p>“Sure you can braid,” said the old woman. “It’s easy. I’ll show you, +and then I’ll sew some while you braid.”</p> + +<p>“Let me braid, too,” urged Bob. “My fingers aren’t all thumbs, if I +am a boy.”</p> + +<p>“Well now,” fluttered Grandma Watterby, pleased as could be, “I don’t +know when I’ve had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>somebody give me a lift. Working all by yourself +is tedious-like, and Emma don’t get a minute to set down. My brother +used to make lots of mats to sell; he could braid ’em tighter than I +can.”</p> + +<p>She showed Betty how to braid and then started Bob on three strips. +Then she took up the sewing of strips already braided.</p> + +<p>“We were talking to the Indian this morning,” said Betty idly. “He +told us a lot about Indians—how wherever they have been oil has been +discovered. Does he really know?”</p> + +<p>“Ki has been to Government school, and knows a heap,” nodded Grandma +Watterby. “What he tells you’s likely to be so. I don’t rightly know +myself about what they have to do with the oil, but Will was saying +only the other night that the Osage Indians have been paid millions +of dollars within the last few years.”</p> + +<p>Her keen old eyes were sparkling, and she was sewing with the quick, +darting motion that they soon learned was characteristic of +everything she did. She must be very old, Bob decided, watching her +shriveled hands, knotted by rheumatism, and the idea of age put +another thought into his head.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Gordon said you’d lived on this farm for sixty years, Grandma,” +the boy said suddenly. It had been explained to them that the old +lady <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>liked every one to use that title. “You must know ’most every +one in the neighborhood.”</p> + +<p>“Fred Watterby brought me here the day we were married,” the old +woman replied, letting her sewing fall into her lap. “Sixty years ago +come next October. I was married on my seventeenth birthday.”</p> + +<p>She sat in a little reverie, and Bob and Betty braided quietly, +unwilling to disturb her, although the same question was in their +minds. Then Grandma Watterby took up her sewing with a sigh, and the +spell was broken.</p> + +<p>“Know everybody in the neighborhood?” she echoed Bob’s statement. +“Yes, I used to. But with so many moving in and such a lot of oil +folks, why, there’s days when I don’t see a rig pass the house I +know.”</p> + +<p>Betty and Bob spoke simultaneously.</p> + +<p>“Do you know any one named Saunders?” they chorused.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>BOB LEARNS SOMETHING</h3> + +<p>Grandma Watterby considered gravely.</p> + +<p>“Saunders? Saunders?” she repeated reflectively, while Betty squeezed +Bob’s arm in an agony of hopeful excitement. “Seems to me—now wait a +minute, and don’t hurry me. When you hurry me, I get mixed in my +mind.”</p> + +<p>Betty and Bob waited in respectful silence. The old woman rubbed her +forehead fretfully, but gradually her expression cleared.</p> + +<p>“There was a Saunders family,” she murmured, half to herself. “Three +girls, wasn’t there—or was it four? No, three, and only one of ’em +married. What was her name—Faith? Yes, that’s it, Faith. A pretty +girl she was, with eyes as blue as a lake and ripply hair she wore in +a big knot. I always did want to see that hair down her back, and one +day I told her so.</p> + +<p>“‘How long is it, Faith?’ I asked her. ‘When I was a girl we wore our +hair down our backs in a braid and was thankful to our Creator for +the blessing of a heavy head of hair.’</p> + +<p>“Faith laughed and laughed. I can see her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>now; she had a funny way +of crinkling up her eyes when she laughed.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll take it down for you, Mrs. Watterby,’ she says; and, my land, +if she didn’t pull out every pin and let her hair tumble down her +back. It was a foot below her waist, too. I never saw such a head o’ +hair.”</p> + +<p>Bob looked up at the old woman with shining eyes.</p> + +<p>“That was my mother,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>“Your mother!” Grandma Watterby’s tone was startled. Then her face +broke into a wrinkled smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, ain’t I stupid?” she demanded eagerly. “My head isn’t +what it used to be. Course you are Faith Saunders’ son. She married +David Henderson, a likely young carpenter. Dear, dear, to think +you’re Faith’s boy. My, wouldn’t your grandma have been proud to see +you!”</p> + +<p>“Did you know her?” asked Bob hungrily. Deprived of kin for so many +years, even the claim to relatives, he was pathetically starved for +the details taken for granted by the average boy.</p> + +<p>“Your grandpa and your grandma,” pronounced Grandma Watterby, “died +’bout a year after your ma was married. I guess they never saw you. +Your aunties was all of twenty years older than she was. Your ma was +the youngest of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>large family of children, but they all died babies +’cept the two oldest and the youngest. Funny wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Betty waved her braiding wildly.</p> + +<p>“Bob was told he had two aunts,” she cried excitedly. “They’re still +living, aren’t they, Grandma Watterby? Do they live near here?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno whether they’re living or not,” said the old woman +cautiously. “Seems like I would ’a’ heard if they had died, but mebbe +not. I don’t go out much any more, and Emma’s no hand for news. Mebbe +they died. I ain’t heard a word ’bout the Saunders family for years +and years. Where’s your father, boy?”</p> + +<p>“He died,” said Bob simply. “He was killed in a railroad wreck, and I +guess my mother nearly lost her mind. They found her wandering around +the country, with only her wedding certificate and a few other papers +in a little tin box. And she was sent to the poorhouse. That night I +was born, and she died.”</p> + +<p>“Dear! dear!” mourned Grandma Watterby, a mist gathering on her +spectacles. “Poor, pretty Faith Saunders! In the poorhouse! The +Saunders was never what you might call rich, but I guess none of ’em +ever saw the inside of the almshouse. And David Henderson was as fine +a young man as you’d want to see. When Faith married him and he took +her away from here, folks thought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>they’d go far in the world. I +wonder if Hope and Charity ever tried to find out what became of +her?”</p> + +<p>“Hope and Charity?” repeated Bob. “Are those my aunts?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Hope and Charity Saunders—they was twins,” said the old lady. +“Nice girls, too; and they thought everything of Faith. She was so +much younger and so pretty, and they were like mothers to her. And +she died in the poorhouse! Why didn’t they send her baby back to the +girls? They’d ’a’ taken care of you and brought you up like their +own.”</p> + +<p>Bob explained that his mother’s mental condition had baffled the +endeavors of the authorities to get information from her regarding +her home and friends, and that she had evidently walked so many miles +from the scene of the wreck that no attempt was made to identify his +father’s body. A baby was no novelty in the poorhouse, and no one was +greatly interested in establishing a circle of relatives for him, +and, except for a happy coincidence, he might have remained in +ignorance of his mother’s people all his life.</p> + +<p>“I must find out where my aunts live,” he concluded. “I overheard +some chaps on the train talking about the Saunders place, and Betty +and I decided that that must be the homestead farm. They may not live +there now, but surely whoever <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>does, could give me a clue. Do you +know of a place so called around here? Or would Mr. Watterby?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where the Saunders place is,” replied Grandma Watterby, +genuinely troubled. “Will wouldn’t know, ’cause he’s only farmed here +five years, having his own place till his pa died. If I recollect +right, the Saunders didn’t live round here, not right round here, +that is. Let’s see, it’s all of fifteen years since Faith was +married. I lost sight of the girls after she left, and they stopped +driving in to see us. Where was their place? I know I went to old +Mrs. Saunders’ funeral. Well, anyway, I got this much straight—there +was three hills right back of the house. I’d know ’em if I saw ’em in +Japan—them three hills! You watch for ’em, boy, and when you lay +eyes on ’em you’ll know you’ve found the Saunders place!”</p> + +<p>And that was the most definite direction Bob could hope for. Grandma +Watterby had the weight of years upon her, and she could not remember +the road that led to the farm she had often visited. Though in the +days that followed she recollected various bits of information about +Bob’s mother and her life as a girl, to which he listened eagerly, +she was utterly unable to locate the farm. She kept mentioning the +three hills, however, and her son, overhearing, smiled a little.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>“Mother never did pay much attention to roads and like-a-that,” he +commented dryly. “She always found her way around like the Babes in +the Wood—by remembering something she had passed coming over.”</p> + +<p>The Watterby place was a curious mixture of primitive farming +methods, ranching tactics, and Indian folklore, with a sprinkling of +furtherest East and West for good measure. Will Watterby attributed +his cosmopolitan plan of work to the influence of the ever-changing +hired man.</p> + +<p>“They come and they go, mostly go,” he was fond of saying. “It’s +easier for me to do the hired man’s way, ’cause I can’t go off when +things don’t suit me. Our place seems to be a half-way station for +all the tramps in creation. I reckon they get off at Flame City, and, +headed east or west, have to earn the money for the rest of their +trip. Well, anyway, I don’t believe in being narrow; if a man can +show me a better way to do a job, I’m willing to be shown.”</p> + +<p>“I simply have to have a clean middy blouse to wear to-morrow when +Uncle Dick gets back,” Betty confided to Bob. “And I don’t intend to +let Mrs. Watterby wash and iron it for me. Can’t you fix me a tub of +water somewhere out in the barn? I’ll do it myself and spread it on +the grass to dry. Then, when she’s getting supper, I can heat an iron +and press it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>Bob was willing; indeed he needed clean collars himself, and had +reached the decision that there was only one way to get them. Inquiry +had established the fact that there was no laundry in Flame City, and +the genus washwoman was practically unknown.</p> + +<p>Betty went in to get her middy blouse, and Bob pumped pail after pail +of water and carried it to the barn. One pump supplied the whole +farm, house and barns. The two cows, three horses, and the pigs and +chickens were watered thrice daily by the patient Ki.</p> + +<p>Cold water was not the only difficulty Betty encountered when she +came to the actual washing. The soap would not lather, and a thick +white scum formed on the water when she tried to churn up a suds.</p> + +<p>“Hard,” said Bob laconically. “Got to have something to put in to +soften it. Borax is good; know where there is any?”</p> + +<p>Betty remembered having seen a box of borax on the kitchen shelf, and +Bob volunteered to go for it. When he returned with it, he brought +the news that there was a peddler at the back door with a bewildering +“assortment of everything,” Bob said.</p> + +<p>“Put a lot of this in,” he directed, handing the box to Betty, who +obediently shook in half the contents. “Now we’ll put the stuff to +soak, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>go and look at this fellow’s stuff. When you come back to +wash, all you’ll have to do will be to rinse ’em out and put them out +to dry.”</p> + +<p>This sounded plausible, and the middy blouse and collars were left to +soak themselves clean.</p> + +<p>The peddler proved to have a horse and wagon, and he carried dress +goods, notions, kitchen wear, books, stationery and candy. Bob and +Betty had never seen a wagon fitted up like this, and they thought it +far better than a store.</p> + +<p>“I might buy that dotted swiss shirtwaist,” whispered Betty, as Mrs. +Watterby ordered five yards of apron gingham measured off. “My middy +blouse might not dry in time.”</p> + +<p>“All right. And I’ll get a clean collar,” agreed Bob. “These aren’t +much and I suppose they’re too cheap to last long, but at any rate +they’re clean.”</p> + +<p>The peddler drove on at last, and then Bob and Betty hurried back to +their washing. Alas, the tub had disappeared. At supper that night, +Mrs. Watterby had missed it and demanded of her husband if he had +seen it.</p> + +<p>“Sure, I had Ki spraying the hen house this afternoon,” Watterby +rejoined. “Thought you’d mixed the soapsuds and washing soda for him. +It was standing in the barn.”</p> + +<p>Betty explained. Of her blouse and Bob’s collars, there remained a +few ragged shreds, for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>she had poured enough washing powder in to +eat the fabric full of holes. She took her loss good-naturedly and +was thankful she had the new blouse to wear.</p> + +<p>Uncle Dick, when he heard the story, went into gales of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Tough luck, Kitten,” he comforted her. “We’ll go to see an oil fire +this afternoon and that’ll take your mind off your troubles.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>AN OIL FIRE</h3> + +<p>Mr. Gordon had arrived the night of the disastrous laundry +experiment, and made his announcement at the supper table.</p> + +<p>“An oil fire!” ejaculated Betty. “Where is it? Won’t it burn the +offices and houses? Perhaps they’ll have it put out before we get +there!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon did not seem to be at all excited, and continued to eat +his supper placidly. He looked tired, and he later admitted that he +had slept little the night before, having spent the time discussing +ways of putting out the fire with the well foreman.</p> + +<p>“No, we’ll get to it in plenty of time in the morning,” he assured +his niece. “An oil fire is less dangerous than expensive, my dear. +We’ve got a man coming up from beyond Tippewa with a sand blast on +the first train. Telegraphed for him to-night. It will cost fifteen +hundred dollars to put the fire out, but it’s worth it.”</p> + +<p>“Fifteen hundred dollars!” Betty stared aghast.</p> + +<p>“Well, think of the barrels of oil burning up,” returned her uncle. +“The fire’s been going since <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>yesterday afternoon. The normal output +of that well is round about three thousand barrels a day. Every +twenty-four hours she burns, that much oil is lost to us. So we count +the fifteen hundred cheap.”</p> + +<p>The Watterby household had the farm habit of retiring early, and +to-night Betty and Bob were anxious to get to sleep early, too, that +they might have a good start in the morning. Mr. Gordon was glad to +turn in when the rest did and make up for lost sleep, so by nine +o’clock the house was wrapped in slumber.</p> + +<p>An hour or two later Betty was awakened by what sounded like a shot. +Startled, she listened for a moment, and then, hearing no further +commotion, went to sleep again.</p> + +<p>She was the first one down in the morning, barring Mrs. Watterby, +who, winter and summer, rose at half-past four or earlier. Going out +to the pump for a drink of water she saw Ki bending over something +beside the woodshed.</p> + +<p>“Hey!” he hailed her, without getting up. “Come see what I got.”</p> + +<p>Ki and Betty were now excellent friends, the taciturn Indian +apparently recognizing that her interest in his stories and Indian +tales was unfeigned.</p> + +<p>“Why, what is it?” she asked, stopping in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>amazement as her foot +touched a furry body. “Is it a dog? Oh, Ki, you didn’t kill a dog?”</p> + +<p>“No, not a dog,” said the Indian showing his white teeth in a grin +which was the nearest he ever permitted himself to come to a laugh. +“Not a dog—a fox. I shot him last night. He would eat Mis’ +Watterby’s chickens.”</p> + +<p>“So that was what I heard,” Betty said, recalling the noise that had +wakened her. “Bob, come and see the fox Ki shot.”</p> + +<p>Bob came running over to the woodshed, and appraised the reddish +yellow body admiringly.</p> + +<p>“Gee, he was a big one, wasn’t he?” he murmured. “When’d you shoot +him, Ki? Last night? I didn’t hear anything. Stealing chickens, I’ll +bet a feather.”</p> + +<p>Ki nodded, and displayed a shining knife.</p> + +<p>“You watch,” he told them. “I skin him, and cure the fur—then I give +it to Miss Betty. Make her a nice what you call neck-piece next +winter.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t skin him!” Betty involuntarily shuddered. “I couldn’t bear +to watch you do that. He will bleed, and I’ll think it hurts him. +Poor little fox—I hate to see dead things!”</p> + +<p>Her lips quivered, and Ki looked hurt.</p> + +<p>“You no want a neck-piece?” he asked, bewildered. “Very nice young +ladies wear them. I have seen.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>Betty smiled at him through the tears that would come.</p> + +<p>“I would love to have the fur,” she explained. “Only I’m such a +coward I can’t bear to see you skin the fox. I heard a man say once +that women are all alike—we don’t care if animals are killed to give +us clothes, but we want some one else to do the killing.”</p> + +<p>Somewhat to her surprise, Ki seemed to understand.</p> + +<p>“Bob help me skin him,” he announced quietly. “You go in. When the +fur is dry and clean, you have it for your neck-piece.”</p> + +<p>Betty thanked him and ran away to tell Mr. Gordon and Grandma +Watterby of her present. A handsome fox skin was not to be despised, +and Betty was all girl when it came to pretty clothes and furs.</p> + +<p>Ki and Bob came in to breakfast, and the talk turned to the oil fire. +Mr. Gordon generously invited as many as could get into his machine +to go, but Mrs. Price could not stand excitement and the Watterbys +were too busy to indulge in that luxury. Will Watterby offered to let +Ki go, but the Indian had a curious antipathy to oil fields. Grandma +Watterby always insisted it was because he was not a Reservation +Indian and, unlike many of them, owned no oil lands.</p> + +<p>“I’d go with you myself,” she declared brightly, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>“if the misery in +my back wasn’t a little mite onery this mornin’. Racketing about in +that contraption o’ yours, I reckon, wouldn’t be the best kind of +liniment for cricks like mine.”</p> + +<p>So only Mr. Gordon, Betty and Bob started for the fields.</p> + +<p>“I saw a horse that I think will about suit you, Betty,” said her +uncle when they were well away from the house. “I’m having it sent +out to-morrow. She is reputed gentle and used to being ridden by a +woman. Then, if we can pick up some kind of a nag for Bob, you two +needn’t be tied down to the farm. All the orders I have for you is +that you’re to keep away from the town. Ride as far into the country +as you like.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Gordon,” protested Bob, “I don’t want you to get a horse +for me! I’d rather have a job. Isn’t there something I can do out at +the oil fields? I’m used to looking out for myself.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, young man,” came the reply with mock severity, “I thought +I told you you had a job on your hands looking after Betty. I meant +it. I can’t go round on these inspection trips unless I can feel that +she is all right. And, by the way, have you any objection to calling +me Uncle Dick? I think I rather fancy the idea of a nephew.”</p> + +<p>Bob, of course, felt more at ease then, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>Betty, too, was pleased. +The boy found it easy to call Mr. Gordon “Uncle Dick,” and as time +went on and they became firmer friends it seemed most natural that he +should do so.</p> + +<p>They were approaching the oil fields gradually, the road, which was +full of treacherous ruts, being anything but straight. Whenever they +met a team or another car, which was infrequently, they had to stop +far to one side and let the other vehicle pass. Betty was much +impressed with her first near view of the immense derricks.</p> + +<p>“What a lot of them!” she said. “Just like a forest, isn’t it, Uncle +Dick?”</p> + +<p>Her uncle frowned preoccupiedly.</p> + +<p>“Those are not our fields,” he announced curtly. “They’re mostly the +property of small lease-holders. It is mighty wasteful, Betty, to +drill like that, cutting up the land into small holdings, and is +bound to make trouble. They have no storage facilities, and if the +pipe lines can’t take all the oil produced, there is congestion right +away. Also many of the leases are on short terms, and that means +they’ve the one idea of getting all the oil out they can while they +hold the land. So they tend to exhaust the sands early, and violate +the principles of conservation.”</p> + +<p>They were following the road through the oil fields now, and +presently Mr. Gordon announced that they were on his company’s +holdings. At <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>the same time they saw a column of dense black smoke +towering toward the sky.</p> + +<p>“There’s the fire!” cried Betty. “Do hurry, Uncle Dick!”</p> + +<p>Obediently the little car let out a notch, and they drew up beside a +group of men, still some distance from the fire.</p> + +<p>“Chandler’s come,” said one of these respectfully to Mr. Gordon. “The +five-ton truck brought up a load of sand, and they’re only waiting +for you to give the word.”</p> + +<p>The speaker was introduced to Betty and Bob as Dave Thorne, a well +foreman, and at a word from Mr. Gordon he jumped on the running board +of the car and they proceeded another mile. This brought them to the +load of sand dumped on one side of the road and the powerful +high-pressure hose that had been brought up on the train that +morning. The heat from the burning well was intense, though they were +still some distance from the actual fire.</p> + +<p>“Now, Betty, watch and you’ll see a fire put out,” commanded her +uncle, getting out of the car and going forward, first cautioning +both young people to stay where they were and not get in any one’s +way.</p> + +<p>A half dozen men lifted the heavy hose, turned the nozzle toward the +column of smoke, and a shower of fine sand curved high in the air. +For <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>perhaps five minutes nothing could be noticed; then, almost +imperceptibly, the smoke began to die down. Lower, lower, and lower +it fell, and at last died away. The men continued to pump in sand for +an extra ten minutes as a matter of precaution, then stopped. The +fire was out.</p> + +<p>“That fire wasn’t no accident, Boss,” proclaimed Dave Thorne, wiping +his perspiring face with a red handkerchief. “She was set. And, +believe me, where there’s one, there’ll be others. The north section +keeps me awake nights. If a fire started there where that close +drilling’s going on, it couldn’t help but spread. You can fight fire +in a single well, but let half a dozen of ’em flare up and there’ll +be more than oil lost.”</p> + +<p>“What a croaker you are, Dave,” said Mr. Gordon lightly. “Don’t lose +sleep about any section. A night’s rest is far too valuable to be +squandered. These young folks want to see the sights, and I’ll take +them around for an hour or so. Then I’ll go over that bill of lading +with you. Come, Betty and Bob, we’ll leave the machine and take the +trail on foot. Mind your clothes and shoes—there’s oil on everything +you touch.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>IN THE FIELDS</h3> + +<p>“I always thought oil was for lamps,” said Betty, as she picked her +way after her uncle and Bob, “but there aren’t enough lamps in the +world to use all this oil.”</p> + +<p>They were walking toward a pumping station still in the distance, and +Mr. Gordon waited for her to come up with him.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps lamps are the least important factor in the whole big +question,” he answered earnestly. “Oil is being used more and more +for fuel. Oil burners have been perfected for ships. And schools, +apartment houses and public buildings are being heated with oil in +many cities. And, of course, the demand for gasolene is enormous. I +rather think the engine of the train that brought you to Flame City +was an oil burner.”</p> + +<p>“I wish we’d gone and looked, don’t you, Bob?” said Betty. “Oh, what +a big derrick! How many quarts of oil does that pump in a day, Uncle +Dick?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“Little Miss Tenderfoot!” he teased. “I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>thought you knew, goosie, +that we measured oil by barrels. That well is flowing slightly over +five thousand barrels a day. Altogether our wells are now yielding +well over fifty thousand barrels of oil a day.”</p> + +<p>“I read in one of the papers about a man who paid three thousand +dollars for one acre of oil land,” said Bob thoughtfully. “How did he +know he was going to find oil here?”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t know,” was the prompt answer. “There is no way of knowing +positively. Many and many a small investor has lost the savings of a +lifetime because he had a ‘hunch’ that he would bring in a good well. +Right here in Oklahoma, statistics show that in one section, of five +thousand two hundred and forty-six wells driven, one thousand three +hundred and fifty-six were dry. Now it takes a lot of money to drive +a well, between twenty and thirty thousand dollars in fact, so you +may count up the loss.”</p> + +<p>“But there is oil here—just look!” Bob waved comprehensively toward +the beehive of industry that surrounded them.</p> + +<p>“Right, my boy. And when they do strike oil, they strike it rich. +Huge fortunes have been made in oil and will be made again. If the +crooks who pose as brokers and promoters would keep their hands off, +it might be possible to safeguard some of the smaller speculators.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>Bob was minded to speak again of the two sharpers he had overheard on +the train, but they had reached the pumping station, and he and Betty +were immediately interested in what Mr. Gordon had to show them.</p> + +<p>There was a long bunk house at one side where the employees slept and +ate and where a comfortable, fat Chinese cook was sweeping off the +screened porch. The pumping station was another long, one-story +building, with eight tall iron stacks rising beside it. Inside, set +in a concrete floor, huge dynamos were pumping away, sending oil +through miles and miles of pipe lines to points where it would be +loaded into cars or ships and sent all over the world. The engineer +in charge took them around and explained every piece of machinery, +much to the delight of Bob who had a boy’s love for things that went.</p> + +<p>From the station they walked to one of the largest storage tanks, a +huge reservoir of oil, capable of holding fifty-five thousand barrels +when full, Mr. Gordon told them. It was half empty at the time, and +three long flights of steps were bare that would be covered when the +storage capacity was used.</p> + +<p>“If there isn’t a laundry or a hotel in Flame City,” observed Betty +suddenly, “there is everything to run the oil business with, that’s +certain. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>Is it all right to say you have very complete equipment, +Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>“Your phrase is correct,” admitted her uncle, smiling. “Poor tools +are the height of folly for any business or worker, Betty. As for +Flame City, the place is literally swamped. People poured in from the +day the first good well came in, and they’ve been arriving in droves +ever since. You can’t persuade any of them to take up the business +they had before—to run a boarding house, or open a restaurant or a +store. No, every blessed one of ’em has set his heart on owning and +operating an oil well. It was just so in the California gold +drive—the forty-niners wanted a gold mine, and they walked right +over those that lay at their feet.”</p> + +<p>They took the automobile after inspecting the storage tank and went +several miles farther up the field to the gasolene plant that was +isolated from the rest of the buildings. Here they saw how the crude +petroleum was refined to make gasolene and were told the elaborate +precautions observed to keep this highly inflammable produce from +catching fire. Seven large steel tanks, built on brick foundations, +were used for storage, and there was also a larger oil tank from +which the oil to be refined was pumped.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see a ship that carries oil,” remarked Betty, as they +came out of the gasolene <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>plant and made their way to the automobile.</p> + +<p>One of the men had happened to mention in her hearing that an +unusually large shipment of oil had been ordered to be sent to Egypt.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s one request we can’t fill,” acknowledged her uncle +regretfully. “You’re inland for sure, Betty, and the good old ocean +is many miles from Oklahoma. However, some day I hope you’ll see an +oil tanker. The whole story of oil, from production to consumption, +is a fascinating one, and not the least wonderful is the part that +deals with the marketing side of it. We have salesmen in South +America, China, Egypt, and practically every large country. Who knows +but Bob will one day be our representative in the Orient?”</p> + +<p>They had dinner, a merry noisy meal, with the men at the bunk house. +It was a novelty Bob and Betty thoroughly enjoyed and they found the +men, mostly clerical workers, a few bosses and Dave Thorne, the well +foreman, a friendly, clever crowd who were to a man keenly interested +in the work at the fields. They talked shop incessantly, and both +Betty and Bob gained much accurate information of positive value.</p> + +<p>After dinner Mr. Gordon drove them back to the Watterby farm, +promising another trip soon. He had to go back immediately, and slept +at the fields that night. Thereafter he came and went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>as he could, +sometimes being absent for two or three days at a time. The horse he +had ordered for Betty arrived, and proved to be all that was said for +it. She was a wiry little animal, and Betty christened her “Clover.” +For Bob, Mr. Gordon succeeded in capturing a big, rawboned white +horse with a gift of astonishing speed. Riding horses were at a +premium, for distances between wells were something to be reckoned +with, and those who did not own a car had to depend on horses. Bob +even saw one enthusiastic prospector mounted on a donkey.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were used to their mounts, Betty and Bob began to go +off for long rides, always remembering Mr. Gordon’s injunction to +stay away from the town.</p> + +<p>“How tanned you are, Betty!” Bob said one day, as they were letting +their horses walk after a brisk gallop. “I declare, you’re almost as +brown as Ki. I like you that way, though,” he added hastily, as if he +feared she might think he was criticising. “And that red tie is +awfully pretty.”</p> + +<p>“You look like an Indian yourself,” said Betty shyly.</p> + +<p>But Bob’s blue eyes, while attractive enough in his brown face, would +preclude any idea that he might have Indian blood. Betty, on the +other hand, as the boy said, was as brown as an Indian, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>and her dark +eyes and heavy straight dark hair, which she now wore in a thick +braid down her back, would have enabled her to play the part of +Minnehaha, or that of a pretty Gypsy lass, with little trouble. Her +khaki riding suit was very becoming, and to-day she had knotted a +scarlet tie under the trim little collar that further emphasized her +vivid coloring and the smooth tan of her cheeks. Although the sun was +hot, she would not bother with a hat, and Bob, too, was bareheaded. +They looked what they were—a healthy, happy, wide-awake American boy +and girl and ready for either adventure or service, or a mixture of +both, and reasonably sure to call whatever might befall them “fun”.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t we go to that north section Dave Thorne is always talking +about?” suggested Bob. “He is forever harping on the subject of a +fire there, and I’d like to look it over.”</p> + +<p>“But it must be five miles from here,” said Betty doubtfully. “Can we +get back in time for dinner?”</p> + +<p>“If we can’t, we’ll get some one of the Chinese cooks to give us a +lunch,” returned Bob confidently. “Let’s go, Betty. I know the way, +because I studied the map Uncle Dick had out on the table night +before last. The north section is shut off from the others, and it’s +backed up against the furthest end of that perfect forest of derricks +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>we saw the first time we went to Uncle Dick’s wells—remember? I +think that is what worries Dave—some of those small holders have +tempers like porcupines and they always think some one is infringing +on their rights. Let one of ’em get mad and take it out on Dave, and +there might be a four-alarm fire without much trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what I miss more than anything else?” asked Betty, when +the horses’ heads were turned and they were on their way to the north +section. “You’ll never guess—ice-cream soda! I haven’t had one for +weeks—not since we left Chicago.”</p> + +<p>“And I guess it will be some more weeks before you get another,” said +Bob. “Ice doesn’t seem to be known out here, does it? Did you see how +the butter swam about under that hot kitchen lamp last night? We used +to think the Peabodys were stingy because they wouldn’t use butter, +but I’d rather have none than have it so soft.”</p> + +<p>They reached the north section and found Dave Thorne directing the +drilling of a well which he told them was expected to “come in” that +morning.</p> + +<p>“Bob, I wonder if you’d do an errand for me?” he inquired. “I have to +go back to the pumping station, and I want to send a record book back +to one of the men here. Will you ride back with me and get the book? +Betty will be all right, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>she’ll get a chance to see the well +come in. MacDuffy will look after her.”</p> + +<p>Bob, of course, was glad to do Dave a service, and the old Scotchman, +MacDuffy, promised to see that Betty did not get into any danger.</p> + +<p>“You’ll like to see the well shot off,” he told her pleasantly. “’Tis +a bonny sight, seen for the first time. The wee horse is not afraid? +That is gude, then. Rein in here and keep your eye on that crowd of +men. When they run you’ll know the time has come.”</p> + +<p>Obediently Betty sat her horse and fixed her gaze on the small group +of men who were moving about with more than ordinary quickness and a +trace of excitement. There is always the hope that a well will “come +in big” and offer substantial payment for the weeks of hard work and +toil expended on it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the group scattered. Involuntarily Betty’s hand tightened on +Clover’s rein. For a moment nothing happened. Then came a roar and a +mighty rumble and the earth seemed to strain and crack.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE THREE HILLS</h3> + +<p>Betty saw an upheaval of sand, followed by a column of oil, heard a +shout of victory from the men, and then Clover, who had been +shivering with apprehension, snorted loudly, took the bit between her +teeth and began to run. MacDuffy, resting securely in the assurance +Betty had given that the horse would not be frightened, was occupied +with the men, and horse and rider were rapidly disappearing from +sight before he realized what had happened.</p> + +<p>“Clover, Clover!” Betty put her arms around the maddened creature’s +neck and spoke to her softly. “It’s all right, dear. Don’t be afraid. +I thought you had been brought up in an oil country, or I wouldn’t +have let you stand where you could see the well.”</p> + +<p>But Clover’s nerves had been sadly shaken, and she was not yet in a +state to listen to reason. Betty was now an excellent horsewoman, and +had no difficulty in remaining in the saddle. She did not try to pull +the horse in, rather suspecting that the animal had a hard mouth, but +let <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>the reins lie loosely on her neck, speaking reassuringly from +time to time. Gradually Clover slackened her wild lope, dropped to a +gentle gallop, and then into a canter and from that to a walk.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, you silly horse, I hope you feel that you’re far enough +from danger,” said Betty conversationally. “I’m sure I haven’t the +slightest idea where we are. Bob and I have never ridden this far, +and from the looks of the country I don’t think it is what the +geographies call ‘densely populated’. Mercy, what a lonesome place!”</p> + +<p>Clover had gone contentedly to cropping grass, and that reminded +Betty that she was hungry.</p> + +<p>Far away she saw the outlines of oil derricks, but the horse seemed +to have taken her out of the immediate vicinity of the oil fields. +Not a house was in sight, not a moving person or animal. The +stillness was unbroken save for the hoarse call of a single bird +flying overhead.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Betty’s eyes widened in astonishment. She jerked up Clover’s +head so sharply that that pampered pet shook it angrily. Why should +she be treated like that?</p> + +<p>“The three hills!” gasped Betty. “Grandma Watterby’s three hills! +‘Joined together like hands’ she always says, and right back of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>Saunders’ house. Clover! do you suppose we’ve found the three hills +and Bob’s aunts?”</p> + +<p>Clover had no opinion to offer. She had been rudely torn from her +enjoyment of the herbage, and she resented that plainly. Betty, +however, was too excited to consider the subject of lunch, even +though a moment before she had been very hungry.</p> + +<p>She turned the horse’s head toward the three hills, and with every +step that brought her nearer the conviction grew that she had found +the Saunders’ place. To be sure, she had seen nothing of a house as +yet, but, like the name of Saunders, three hills were not a common +phenomenon in Oklahoma, at least not within riding distance of the +oil fields.</p> + +<p>“It’s an awful long way,” sighed Betty, when after half an hour’s +riding, the hills seemed as far away as before. “I suppose the air is +so clear that they seemed nearer than they are. And I guess we came +the long way around. There must be a road from the Watterby farm that +cuts off some of the distance.”</p> + +<p>Betty did not worry about what Bob or the men at the wells might be +thinking. They knew her for a good rider, and Clover for a +comparatively easily managed horse. No one in the West considers a +good gallop anything serious, even when it assumes the proportions of +a runaway. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>Betty was sure that they would expect her to ride back +when Clover had had her run, and, barring a misstep, no harm would be +likely to befall the rider.</p> + +<p>After a full hour and a half of steady going, the three hills +obligingly moved perceptibly nearer. Betty could see the ribbon of +road that lay at their base, and the outline of a rambling farmhouse.</p> + +<p>“Grandma Watterby said the hills were right back of the house!” +repeated Betty ecstatically. “Oh, I’m sure this must be the place. If +only Bob had come with me!”</p> + +<p>She laughed a little at the notion of such an accommodating runaway, +and then pulled Clover up short as they came to a rickety fence that +apparently marked the boundary line of a field.</p> + +<p>“We go straight across this field to the road, I think,” said Betty +aloud. “I don’t believe there is anything planted. Clover, can you +jump that fence?”</p> + +<p>The fence was not very high, and at the word Clover gracefully +cleared it. The field was a tangled mass of corn stubble and weeds, +and a good farmer would have known that it had not been under +cultivation that year. At the further side Betty found a pair of +bars, and, taking these down, found herself in a narrow, deserted +road, facing a lonely farmhouse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>The house was set back several yards from the road and even to the +casual observer presented a melancholy picture. The paint was peeling +from the clapboards, leaders were hanging in rusty shreds, and the +fence post to which Betty tied her horse was rotten and worm-eaten.</p> + +<p>“My goodness, I’m afraid the aunts are awfully poor,” sighed Betty, +who had cherished a dream that Bob might find his relatives rich and +ready to help him toward the education he so ardently desired. “Even +Bramble Farm didn’t look as bad as this.”</p> + +<p>She went up the weedy path to the house, and then for the first time +noticed that all the shades were drawn and the doors and windows +closed. It was a warm day and there was every reason for having all +the fresh air that could be obtained.</p> + +<p>“They must be away from home!” thought Betty. “Or—doesn’t anybody +live here?”</p> + +<p>A cackle from the hen yard answered her question and put her mind at +ease. Where there were chickens, there would be people as a matter of +course. They might have gone away to spend the day.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take Clover out to the barn and give her a drink of water,” +decided Betty. “No one would mind that. Grandma Watterby says a +farmer’s barn is always open to his neighbor’s stock.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>So, Clover’s bridle over her arm, Betty proceeded out to the +barnyard.</p> + +<p>“Why—how funny!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>The unearthly stillness which had reigned was broken at her approach +by the neighing of a horse, and at the sound the chickens began to +beat madly against the wire fencing of their yard, cows set up a +bellowing, and a wild grunting came from the pig-pen.</p> + +<p>Betty hurried to the barn. Three cows in their stanchions turned +imploring eyes on her, and a couple of old horses neighed loudly. +Something prompted Betty to look in the feed boxes. They were empty.</p> + +<p>“I believe they’re hungry!” she exclaimed. “Clover, I don’t believe +they’ve been fed or watered for several days! They wouldn’t act like +this if they had.”</p> + +<p>There wasn’t a drop of water anywhere in or about the barn, and a +hasty investigation of the pig troughs and the drinking vessels in +the chicken yard showed the same state of affairs.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how much to feed you,” Betty told the suffering animals +compassionately, “but at any rate I know <i>what</i> to feed you. And you +shall have some water as fast as I can pump it.”</p> + +<p>She was thankful for the weeks spent at Bramble Farm as she set about +her heavy tasks. She was tired from her long ride and the excitement +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>of the morning, but it never entered her head to go away and leave +the neglected farm stock. There was no other house within sight where +she could go for help, and if the animals were fed and watered that +day it was evidently up to her to do it.</p> + +<p>She worked valiantly, heaping the horses’ mangers with hay, carrying +cornstalks to the cows and feeding the ravenous pigs and chickens +corn on the cob, for there was no time to run the sheller. She had +some difficulty in discovering the supplies, and then, when all were +served, she discovered that not one of the animals had touched the +food.</p> + +<p>“Too thirsty,” she commented wisely.</p> + +<p>Watering them was hard, tiresome work, for one big tub in the center +of the yard evidently served the whole barn. When she had pumped that +full—and how her arms ached!—she led the horses out, and after +them, the cows. She was afraid to let either horses or cows have all +they wanted, and jerking them back to their stalls before they had +finished was not easy. She carried pailful after pailful of water to +the pigs and the chickens and it was late in the afternoon before she +had the satisfaction of knowing that every animal, if not content, +was much more comfortable than before her arrival.</p> + +<p>“Now I think I’ve earned something to eat!” <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>she confided to Clover, +when, hot and tired and flushed with the heat, she had filled the +last chicken yard pan. “And I’m going up to the house and help myself +from the pantry. I’m ’most sure the kitchen door is unlocked; no one +around here ever locks the back door.”</p> + +<p>She was very hungry by this time, having had nothing since an early +breakfast, and she had no scruples about helping herself to whatever +edibles she might find.</p> + +<p>“I begin to sympathize with all the hired men,” she thought, making +her way to the kitchen door. “I don’t wonder they eat huge meals when +they have to do such hard work.”</p> + +<p>The door, as she had expected, was not locked. A slight turn on the +knob opened it easily, and Betty stepped cautiously into the kitchen. +The drawn shades made it dark, but it was not the darkness that +caused Betty to jump back a step.</p> + +<p>She listened intently. Would she hear the noise again, or had it been +only her nervous imagination?</p> + +<p>No—there it was again, plain and unmistakable. Some one had groaned!</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>TWO INVALIDS</h3> + +<p>Betty, for a single wild instant, had an impulse to slam the door +shut and gallop off the place on Clover. She was all alone, and miles +from help of any sort, no matter what happened. Then, as another +groan sounded, she bravely made up her mind to investigate. Some one +was evidently sick and in pain; that explained the state of affairs +at the barns. Could she, Betty Gordon, run away and leave a sick +person without attempting to find out what was needed?</p> + +<p>It must be confessed that it took a great deal of courage to pull +open the grained oak door that led from the kitchen and behind which +the groans were sounding with monotonous regularity, but the girl set +her teeth, and opened it softly. In the semi-darkness she was able to +make out the dim outlines of a bed set between the two windows and a +swirl of bedclothes, some of which were dragging on the floor.</p> + +<p>“I’m just Betty,” she quavered uncertainly, for though the groans had +stopped no one spoke. “I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>heard you groaning. Are you sick, and is +there anything I can do for you?”</p> + +<p>“Sick,” murmured a woman’s voice. “So sick!”</p> + +<p>At the sound of utter weariness and pain, Betty’s fear left her and +all the tenderness and passionate desire for service that had made +her such a wonderful little “hand” with ill and fretful babies in her +old home at Pineville came to take its place.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to put the shades up,” she explained, stepping lightly to +the windows and pulling up the green shades. “Then I can see to make +you more comfortable.”</p> + +<p>She spoke clearly and yet not loudly, knowing that a sick person +hates whispering.</p> + +<p>The afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, revealing a clean +though most sparsely furnished bedroom. A rag rug on the floor, two +chairs, a washstand and mirror and the bed were the only articles of +furniture.</p> + +<p>Betty, after one swift glance, turned toward the occupant of the bed. +She saw a woman apparently about sixty years old, with mild blue +eyes, now glazed by fever, and tangled gray hair. As Betty watched +her a terrible fit of coughing shook her.</p> + +<p>“You must have a doctor!” said Betty decidedly, wondering what there +was about the woman that seemed familiar. “How long have you been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>like this? Have you been alone? How hard it must have been for you!”</p> + +<p>She put out her hand to smooth the bedclothes, and the sick woman +grasped it, her own hot with fever, till Betty almost cried out.</p> + +<p>“The stock!” she gasped. “I took ’em water till I couldn’t get out of +bed. How long ago was that? They will die tied up!”</p> + +<p>“I fed and watered them,” Betty soothed her. “They’re all right. +Don’t worry another minute. I’ll make you tidy and get you something +to eat and then I’m going for a doctor.”</p> + +<p>What was there about the woman—Betty stared at her, frowning in an +effort to recollect where she had seen her before. If Bob were only +here to help her—Bob! Why, the sick woman before her was the living +image of Bob Henderson!</p> + +<p>“The Saunders place!” Betty clapped her hand to her mouth, anxious +not to excite her patient. “Why, of course, this is the farm. And she +must be one of Bob’s aunts!”</p> + +<p>As if in answer to her question, the sick woman half rose in bed.</p> + +<p>“Charity!” she stammered, her hands pressed to her aching head. +“Charity! She was sick first.”</p> + +<p>She pointed to an adjoining room and Betty crossed the floor feeling +that she was walking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>in a dream and likely to wake up any minute.</p> + +<p>The communicating room was shrouded in darkness like the other, and +when Betty had raised the shades she found it furnished as another +bedroom. Evidently the old sisters had chosen to live entirely on the +first floor of the house.</p> + +<p>The woman in the square iron bed looked startlingly like Bob, too, +but, unlike her sister, her eyes were dark. She lay quietly, her +cheeks scarlet and her hands nervously picking at the counterpane. +When she saw Betty she struggled to a sitting posture and tried to +talk. It was pitiable to watch her efforts for her voice was quite +gone. Only when Betty put her ear close down to the trembling lips +could she hear the words.</p> + +<p>“Hope!” murmured the sick woman hoarsely. “Hope—have you seen her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she asked for you, too.” Betty tried to nod brightly. “I’m +going to do a few things here first and get you both something to +eat, and then I’m going for a doctor.”</p> + +<p>Miss Charity sank back, evidently satisfied, and Betty hurried out to +the kitchen. The wood box was well-filled and she had little +difficulty in starting a fire in the stove. Like the rest of the farm +homes, the only available water supply seemed to be the pump in the +yard, and Betty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>pumped vigorously, letting a stream run out before +she filled the teakettle. She thought it likely that no water had +been pumped for several days.</p> + +<p>There was plenty of food in the house, though not a great variety, +and mostly canned goods at that. Betty, who by this time was really +faint with hunger, made a hasty lunch from crackers and some cheese +before she carried a basin of warm water in to the two patients and +sponged their faces and hands. She wanted to put clean sheets on the +beds, but wisely decided that was too much of an undertaking for an +inexperienced nurse and contented herself with straightening the +bedclothes and putting on a clean counterpane from the scanty little +pile of linen in a bottom drawer of the washstand in Miss Hope’s +room. She was slightly delirious for brief intervals, but was able to +tell Betty where many things were. Neither of the sisters seemed at +all surprised to see the girl, and, if they were able to reason at +all, probably thought she was a neighbor’s daughter.</p> + +<p>When Betty had the two rooms arranged a bit more tidily, and she was +anxious to leave them looking presentable for she planned to send the +doctor on ahead while she found Bob and brought him out with her, she +brushed and braided her patients’ hair smoothly, and then <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>fed them a +very little warm milk. Neither seemed at all hungry, and Betty was +thankful, for she did not know what food they should have, and she +longed for a physician to take the responsibility. She had given each +a drink of cool water before she did anything else, knowing that they +must be terribly thirsty.</p> + +<p>She stood in the doorway where she could be seen from both beds when +she had done everything she could, and the two sisters, if not +better, were much more comfortable than she had found them.</p> + +<p>“Now,” she said, “I’m going to get a doctor. No, I won’t leave you +all alone—not for long,” she added hastily, for Miss Charity was +gazing at her imploringly and Miss Hope’s eyes were full of tears. +“I’ll come back and stay all night and as long as you need me. But I +must get some things and I must tell the Watterbys where I am. I’ll +hurry as fast as I can.”</p> + +<p>She ran out and saddled Clover, for she had been turned out to grass +to enjoy a good rest, and, having got the proper direction from Miss +Hope, urged her up the road at a smart canter. She knew where the +Flame City doctor lived; that is, the country doctor who had +practised long before the town was the oil center it was now. There +were good medical men at the oil fields, but Betty knew that they +were liable to be in any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>section and difficult to find. She trusted +that Doctor Morrison would be at home.</p> + +<p>He lived about two miles out of the town and a mile from the Watterby +farm, and, as good luck would have it, he had come in from a hard +case at dinner time, taken a nap, and was comfortably reading a +magazine on his side porch when Betty wheeled into the yard. She knew +him, having met him one day at the oil wells, and when she explained +the need for him, he said that he would snatch a bit of supper and go +immediately in his car.</p> + +<p>“I know these two Saunders sisters,” he said briefly. “They’ve lived +alone for years, and now they’re getting queer. It’s a mercy they +ever got through last winter without a case of pneumonia. Both of ’em +down, you say? And impossible to get a nurse or a housekeeper for +love or money.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m going back,” explained Betty quickly. “They need some one to +wait on them. Uncle Dick will let me, I know, and I really know quite +a lot about taking care of sick people, Doctor Morrison.”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t stay there alone,” objected the doctor. “Why, child, I +wouldn’t think of it. Some one will come along and carry you off.”</p> + +<p>“Bob will come and stay, too,” declared Betty confidently. “There are +horses and cows to take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>care of, you know. I found them nearly dead +of thirst, and all tied in their stalls.”</p> + +<p>The doctor interrupted impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Nice country we live in!” he muttered bitterly. “Every last man so +bent on making money in oil he’d let his neighbor die under his very +eyes. Here are two old women sick, and no one to lift a hand for ’em. +I suppose they haven’t been able to get a hired man to tend to the +stock since the oil boom struck Flame City. Well, child, I don’t see +that I have much choice in the matter. I know as well as you do, that +they must have some one to help out for a few days. That Henderson +lad looks capable, and you’ll be safe, as far as that goes, with him +in the house. But you musn’t try to do too much, and, above all, no +lifting. I’ll keep an eye on you.”</p> + +<p>The doctor offered to take Betty back with him in the car but she was +anxious that he should not be delayed and asked him to go as soon as +he could. She herself would ride on to the Watterby farm, see if Bob +was there, get her supper, and pack a few necessary things in a small +bag. Then she and Bob would ride back to the Saunders’ place. Clover +was fresh enough now, after her respite, far fresher than Betty, who +was more tired than she had ever been in her life, though nothing +would have dragged that confession from her. Of course her uncle must +be notified, if he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>were not at the farm. Betty knew that a message +left with the Watterbys would reach him. He had been off for four +days, and was expected home very soon.</p> + +<p>Betty did not hurry Clover, for she wanted to save her for that +evening’s trip, and it was well on toward six o’clock before she came +in sight of the farm. A black dot resolved itself into Bob and he +came running to meet her.</p> + +<p>“I was beginning to worry about you,” he called. “I waited up at the +fields till afternoon, because Thorne was sure you would come back +there. When I got here and found you hadn’t come in, I was half +afraid the horse had thrown you. You look done up, Betty; are you +hurt?”</p> + +<p>“I’m all right,” said Betty carelessly, dismounting. “Have you heard +from Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>Bob did not answer, and she turned in surprise to look at him. His +face was rather white under the tan, and his hands, fumbling with the +reins, were trembling.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>UNEXPECTED NEWS</h3> + +<p>“Bob!” Betty’s over-tired nerves seemed to jangle like tangled wires. +“Bob, is anything the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Well, of course, nothing is really the matter,” replied Bob, his +assumed calmness belied by his excited face. “Nothing that need worry +you, Betty. But—there’s another oil fire!”</p> + +<p>“Another well on fire?” repeated Betty. “Oh, Bob, is it anywhere near +Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>“You come in and sit down. Ki will look after Clover,” said Bob +authoritatively. “Supper is almost ready, and I’ll tell you all I +know. Mrs. Watterby has gone to bed with a sick headache, but Grandma +is taking her place.”</p> + +<p>“Is it a very bad fire?” urged Betty. “Where is it? When did it +start? Have you seen it?”</p> + +<p>“I guess it is pretty bad,” said Bob soberly. “It’s the north +section, Betty. Just what Thorne has been afraid of.”</p> + +<p>“The north section!” Betty looked startled. “But, Bob, we were there +this morning. Everything was all right.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>“Well, when I came back with the record book Thorne sent me with and +found you and Clover had dashed off, everything was all right, too. I +hung round for an hour or so, hoping you’d ride back, and then +MacDuffy asked me to take a message to Thorne. They were having +dinner at the mess house, and Uncle Dick came in before we had +finished. He was feeling great over some leases they’d signed that +morning, and he thought he’d get home to-night. He didn’t seem to +worry about you—said he knew Clover was a sensible and well-broken +horse and that he guessed you’d come out none the worse for wear. +Somebody called Thorne outside just as the Chink brought in the pie, +and he was back in a few minutes, looking as if the bottom had +dropped out of the world.</p> + +<p>“‘Two wells afire in the north section, Mr. Gordon,’ he said, and at +that every man shot from the table out into the air. We could just +see the two thin spirals of smoke—that section must be four miles +from the bunk house.</p> + +<p>“Everybody ran for their horses, and Uncle Dick for his car. He +cranked it and then saw me getting in with him.</p> + +<p>“‘You go back and stay with Betty,’ he cried to me. ‘Stay with her +every minute till I come back. If I’m gone three hours or three days +or three years, don’t leave her. And keep her away <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>from the oil +fields. We’ll be overrun as soon as news of this gets out, and the +kind of crowd that will be here is no place for a girl. Promise me, +Bob.’</p> + +<p>“So of course I promised,” concluded the lad earnestly. “He got into +the car, and maybe he didn’t make that tin trap speed. All I saw was +a cloud of dust. This afternoon all of Flame City has gone past here +on foot, in cars, and on horseback. They say more wells have caught.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think Uncle Dick is in danger?” faltered Betty. “Aren’t the +fire fighters surrounded sometimes and suffocated with smoke?”</p> + +<p>“What have you been reading?” demanded Bob with a stoutness he was +far from feeling. “Uncle Dick knows too much to be caught like that. +No, he may not get home for a couple of days more, but there is no +need for you to lie awake and worry. Take my advice and go to bed the +minute you’ve had supper; you look tired to death, Betty.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Bob!” For the moment Betty had actually forgotten her great +news, but now it came rushing back to her. “Oh, Bob, I’ve something +wonderful to tell you!”</p> + +<p>“Won’t listen till you’ve had your supper,” said Bob firmly, marching +her out to the dining-room table, as Grandma Watterby rang the bell. +“You eat first, then you can talk.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>Betty could hardly touch her food for excitement, but she did not +want the Prices to hear what she had to tell Bob, so she made a +pretense of eating. The Watterby household was eager to hear what had +happened to her on her unplanned-for ride, and she told them that +Clover had taken her some miles before she could be halted. She did +not go into details.</p> + +<p>“Now, Bob!” She fairly dragged him from the supper table, ignoring +his suggestion that they help Grandma Watterby wash the dishes. “I +can’t wait another minute, not even to help Grandma. I have something +to tell you, and you simply must listen. I’ve found your aunts!”</p> + +<p>Bob stared at her stupidly.</p> + +<p>“I found the three hills!” Betty hurried on excitedly. “Clover +carried me ever so far, and I saw the three hills in the distance. I +had to ride miles before I reached them, but it isn’t more than seven +or eight by the road. And, Bob, both your aunts are very sick, and +they have no one to take care of them or get them anything to eat. +There aren’t any neighbors around here, you know; all the women are +too old or too busy like Mrs. Watterby, and the men are crazy about +oil. You and I have to go there to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Betty, are you sure you are not crazy?” demanded Bob uneasily. “How +do you know they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>are my aunts? How can we go there and stay? They +must need a doctor.”</p> + +<p>Betty was impatient of explanations, but she saw that Bob was +genuinely bewildered, so she hastily sketched the proceedings of the +afternoon for him.</p> + +<p>“And Doctor Morrison must be there now,” she wound up triumphantly. +“They look so much like you, Bob. He’ll see it, too.”</p> + +<p>“I never saw any one like you, Betty!” Bob gazed at her in +undisguised admiration. “No wonder you look tired. Why, I should +think you’d be ready to drop. Hadn’t you better go to bed and get a +good night’s sleep and let me go out to the farm? You can come +to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“I’m rested now,” insisted Betty. “That hot supper made me feel all +right again. Doctor Morrison will probably have some directions for +me, and I promised the old ladies I’d be back and you promised Uncle +Dick not to leave me. Let’s go and tell Grandma and leave word with +her for Uncle Dick. Then you saddle up, and I’ll get my bag.”</p> + +<p>Bob forbore to argue further, more because he thought that it was +best to get Betty away from the Watterby place on the main road to +Flame City than because he approved of her taking another long ride +after an exhausting day. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>The most disquieting rumors had come down +from the fields that afternoon, and Bob knew that every kind of +story, authentic and unfounded, would be promptly retailed over the +Watterby gate. If Mr. Gordon’s life were in danger, and Bob feared it +was, it would be agony for Betty to be unable to go to him and be +forced to listen to hectic accounts of the fire.</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said Grandma Watterby, when Betty told her that she had +found the Saunders place. “So you rode to the three hills, did you? +Ain’t they pretty? Many and many’s the time I’ve seen ’em. And Bob’s +aunties—Hope and Charity—they living there?”</p> + +<p>Betty explained briefly that they were ill and that she and Bob were +going to look after things.</p> + +<p>“We may be gone two or three days or a week,” she said. “You tell +Uncle Dick where we are if he comes, won’t you? Doctor Morrison will +bring messages if you ask him. He’s going to see them, too.”</p> + +<p>Grandma Watterby hurried to the pantry and came back with a glass jar +in her hands.</p> + +<p>“This is some o’ my home-made beef extract,” she told them. “You take +it with you, Betty. There ain’t nothing better for building up a sick +person. Dear, dear, to think of you finding Hope and Charity +Saunders. Do they know ’bout Bob?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>Betty said no, and the horses being brought round by Ki, who had +insisted on saddling them, she and Bob rode off. It was faintly dusk, +and a new moon hung low in the sky.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it lovely?” sighed Betty. “In spite of sickness and danger and +selfish people, I love this country on an evening like this. What do +you think we ought to do about telling your aunts, Bob? I knew +Grandma would ask that question.”</p> + +<p>“Why, if they’re sick, I think it would be utterly foolish to mention +a nephew to ’em,” said Bob cheerfully. “They probably are blissfully +unaware that I’m alive, and trying to explain to them would likely +bring on an attack of brain fever. I’m just a neighbor dropped in to +help while they’re laid up.”</p> + +<p>Betty could not bring herself to speak of the evident poverty of the +lonely Saunders home. She had built so many bright castles for Bob, +and the dilapidated house and buildings she had left that afternoon +quite failed to fit into any of the pictures. However, she remembered +happily, there was always the prospect of oil.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be out of the fields,” she argued to herself. “Just suppose +oil should be discovered in that section! Bob might easily be a +millionaire!”</p> + +<p>Bob was silent, too, but his thoughts were not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>on a problematical +fortune. He was wondering, with a quickened beating of his heart, how +his mother’s sisters would look and whether he should be able to see +in them anything of the girlish face in the long-treasured little +picture that was one of the few valuables in the black tin box.</p> + +<p>“There’s a team ahead,” said Betty suddenly.</p> + +<p>Her quick ears had caught the sound of wheels, and though it was +almost dark now, no lantern was lit on the rattling buggy to which +they presently caught up. The rig made such a noise, added to the +breathing of the bony horse that was suffering from a bad case of +that malady popularly known among farmers as “the heaves,” that the +occupants were forced to raise their voices to make themselves heard. +The top was up and it was impossible to see who was inside.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, let me handle it, and I’ll make you thousands,” some one +was saying as they passed the buggy single file. “I can manage women +and their money, and I don’t believe the idea of oil has as much as +entered their heads.”</p> + +<p>“Always oil,” thought Bob, hurrying his horse to catch up with Betty. +“In Oklahoma the stuff that dreams are made of comes up through an +iron derrick, that’s sure.”</p> + +<p>At the Saunders place, bathed in faint moonlight, they found Doctor +Morrison’s car, and a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>light in the window told that he was waiting +for them.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t know whether you would make it to-night or not,” was his +greeting, as they went around to the kitchen door and he opened it to +show the room brightly lighted by two lamps. “Both patients are +asleep. Miss Charity has laryngitis and Miss Hope a very heavy cold. +But I think the worst is over.”</p> + +<p>He stopped, and shot a keen glance at Bob.</p> + +<p>“Funny,” he said abruptly. “For the moment I would have said you +looked enough like Miss Hope to have been her younger brother.”</p> + +<p>Bob merely smiled at the doctor’s remark, for he did not want the +relationship to be guessed before his aunts had recognized him.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>HOUSEKEEPER AND NURSE</h3> + +<p>“I must be going on,” Doctor Morrison continued, finishing his +writing at the kitchen table which the entrance of Bob and Betty had +evidently interrupted. “Here are a few directions for you, Betty. I +do not think there will be anything for you to do to-night. Both +should sleep right through, and I’ll be out in the morning. I have +made a bed for you on the parlor sofa, and one for Bob here in the +kitchen. I thought you’d want to be near the patients. And, then, +too, the rooms upstairs are damp and musty; evidently the upper floor +of the house hasn’t been used for some time. Now are you sure you +will be all right? Does Mr. Gordon know you are here?”</p> + +<p>Bob explained that they had left a message for Mr. Gordon at the +Watterby farm, and Doctor Morrison, who of course knew of the fire, +nodded understandingly. Then he bade them good-night, promising to +make them his first call in the morning.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go out and bed down the horses and feed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>the stock,” said Bob, +after the light of the doctor’s car had disappeared down the road. +“Do go to bed, Betty; you’re all tuckered out.”</p> + +<p>But Betty flatly refused to stay in the house without Bob. She tagged +sleepily after him while he carried water to the horses and cows, +bedded them down and littered the pig pens with fresh straw. He +bolted the doors of the barns and hen house and made everything snug +for the night. Then he and Betty went back to the house, having +stabled their own horses in two empty stalls that, judging from the +dusty hay in the mangers, had not been used recently.</p> + +<p>Both patients were sleeping, breathing rather heavily and hoarsely, +it is true, but apparently resting comfortably. Betty and Bob were +thoroughly tired out and glad to say good-night and go to bed. As +Betty snuggled down on the comfortable old couch, she thought how +kind of the doctor to have made things ready for them.</p> + +<p>The sun streaming in through the windows woke her the next morning. +With a start she jumped up and put on her slippers and blue robe. +With the healthy vigor of youth she had slept without once waking +during the night, and not once had the thought of her patients +disturbed her. Cautiously she tiptoed into the two bedrooms. Miss +Charity and Miss Hope were sleeping quietly. A swift peep into the +kitchen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>showed her a fire snapping briskly in the stove and the +teakettle sending out clouds of steam. Bob was nowhere in sight.</p> + +<p>“He’s out at the barn,” thought Betty. “I must hurry and get +breakfast.”</p> + +<p>She dressed quickly but trimly, as usual, and raised the windows of +the parlor. Screens or not, she felt the house would be the better +for quantities of fresh air. She closed the door softly and went down +the narrow little passage into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>She found a bowl of nice-looking eggs in the pantry and a piece of +home-cured bacon neatly sewed into a white muslin bag and partly +sliced. This, with slices of golden brown toast—the bread box held +only half a loaf of decidedly stale bread—solved her breakfast menu. +There were two pans of milk standing on the table, thick with yellow +cream, and Betty was just wondering if Bob had milked and when, for +the cream could not have risen under two or three hours’ time, when +the boy came whistling cheerfully in, carrying a pail of foaming +milk.</p> + +<p>“Sh!” warned Betty. “Don’t wake your aunts up. When did you milk, +Bob? You can’t have done it twice in one morning.”</p> + +<p>“Well hardly,” admitted Bob, lowering his voice discreetly. “I went +out last night after I was sure you were asleep. I knew the cows had +to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>milked and that you’d probably insist on staying out there if +you went to sleep standing up. So I took a lantern I found under the +bench on the back porch and went out about an hour after you went to +bed. Gee, fried eggs and bacon! You’re a good cook, Betsey!”</p> + +<p>Betty had spread one end of the table with a clean brown linen cloth, +and now, after Bob had washed his hands and she had strained the +milk, she placed the smoking hot dishes before him, and they +proceeded to enjoy the meal heartily.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if the fire is out,” said Betty anxiously. “Perhaps Doctor +Morrison will know when he comes. What are you going to do now, Bob?”</p> + +<p>“You tell me what will help you,” answered Bob. “I suppose you have +to cook breakfast for the aunts—doesn’t that sound funny? I thought +I’d kind of hang around the house—you might want furniture moved or +something like that—till you had ’em all fixed comfy, and then you +could go out to the barn with me while I finished out there. It’s +lonesome in a new place.”</p> + +<p>“Sometimes I think,” announced Betty, stopping with the frying pan in +her hand and beaming upon Bob, “that you have more sense than any one +I ever knew. You needn’t do a thing, if you’ll just wait for me. +There’s a pile of old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>magazines in the parlor. You can read the +stories in those.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Bob comfortably established in a padded rocking chair, she +went in to see if either of her patients was awake. Both were, as it +happened, and though they looked slightly bewildered at first, Betty +soon recalled to their minds her coming and the visit from the +doctor. Both were very weak, and Miss Charity still was voiceless, +but their eyes were clear and there was no sign of delirium.</p> + +<p>Betty had brought an enveloping white apron and cap with her, and she +presented an immaculate little figure as she gently sponged the hands +and faces of the old ladies and made their beds tidy and smooth. +Doctor Morrison had ordered water toast and weak tea for their +breakfast, and when Betty went out to the kitchen to prepare two +trays she found that Bob had pumped two pails of fresh water, cleared +the table and stacked the dishes in the dishpan and was taking up +ashes from the stove while he waited for the kettle of water which he +had put on for them to heat.</p> + +<p>“I thought you’d need the teakettle yourself,” observed this +energetic young man, a streak of soot across his forehead in no way +detracting from his engaging smile. “I’ll have to put in an hour or +so chopping wood this afternoon. The box will be empty by noon.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>Betty found that both her patients were too weak to feed themselves, +so she had to handle one tray at a time. The meal was barely over +when Doctor Morrison drove up. He found Bob washing dishes and Betty +drying them.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, you look as bright as two dollars,” said the gray old +doctor merrily. “You don’t need any prescriptions, that’s evident. +How are the sick ladies, Miss Nurse?”</p> + +<p>“They slept all night—at least, I think they did,” she reported +conscientiously. “I never woke up, and I think I would have heard +them call, for the door from the parlor was left open and their doors +too, of course. They slept about an hour and a half after Bob and I +were up and about. But they are very weak. I had to feed them.”</p> + +<p>“That’s to be expected,” said the doctor professionally. “We’ll go in +and see how the fever is. I don’t suppose they’ve seen Bob?”</p> + +<p>Betty shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I thought the fewer people they saw the better,” she answered +quietly. “Miss Hope was afraid I was doing too much and I told her a +boy was here looking after the barns and the stock. That seemed to +satisfy her.”</p> + +<p>“Well, for two youngsters, I must say you show extraordinary good +sense,” the doctor said. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>“I don’t know what these old ladies would +have done if you hadn’t taken hold.”</p> + +<p>He wanted Betty to go with him to the sick-rooms, and at his first +glance pronounced Miss Hope better. Miss Charity, too, was much +improved, but she struggled against the throat spray and was +exhausted when the treatment was finished.</p> + +<p>“They’ll build up, but slowly,” declared the doctor when he and Betty +and Bob were again together in the kitchen. “I think it is safe to +say that they’ll sleep nearly all day. Keep them warm and on a light +diet—here is a better list than the one I scribbled last night—and +be careful of yourself, Betty. I’m having some supplies sent out to +you. I took a look at the pantry last night before you came, and the +old ladies have been living on what the farm produced; if it didn’t +produce what they needed, they evidently went without. I’m afraid +they’re desperately poor and proud. What’s that? Grandma Watterby’s +beef extract? Fine! Just what you need! Give ’em some for supper. +Well, Betty, out with it—don’t ask a question with your eyes; use +your tongue.”</p> + +<p>“The fire?” stammered Betty. “Is it out? Have you heard anything?”</p> + +<p>“Still burning,” was the reluctant answer. “About all the town spent +the night up there, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>hampering the employees I haven’t a doubt and +thinking they were helping the force. However, don’t worry, child; I +honestly believe that Mr. Gordon is in no danger. He is intelligent +and careful, and the company will sacrifice the whole field before +they will let a man risk his life.”</p> + +<p>Doctor Morrison was to come the next day, and some hours after he +left them a rickety oil field wagon drove up and left a box of +groceries. The boy driving the sleek mule was in a great hurry “to +see the fire,” and he merely tumbled the box off and drove on with +hardly an unnecessary word.</p> + +<p>“Goodness, the doctor seems to expect us to stay a month!” gasped +Betty, unpacking the tin cans and packages. “It’s almost as much fun +as keeping a store, isn’t it, Bob? Oh, my gracious! what was that?”</p> + +<p>A cry had sounded from Miss Hope’s bedroom.</p> + +<p>Bob and Betty ran to the door. She was sitting up in bed, her bright, +hot eyes staring at them unseeingly.</p> + +<p>“Faith!” she cried piercingly. “Faith, my darling!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>SICK FANCIES</h3> + +<p>Betty turned to stare at Bob. He looked at her helplessly.</p> + +<p>“My mother!” he whispered. “She’s calling my mother!”</p> + +<p>Betty was the first to recover. She went quietly over to the bed.</p> + +<p>“There, dear, lie down,” she said soothingly. “Everything is all +right. It’s the fever,” she explained in an aside to Bob. “The doctor +said she used to be out of her head when she had even a slight cold.”</p> + +<p>“Faith!” cried Miss Hope again, resisting Betty’s attempts to press +her back against the pillow. “I wrote and wrote,” the hoarse voice +babbled on. “You and David are so cruel—you will never send us word. +David!” she sat up straighter and pointed an accusing finger at Bob +standing in the doorway. “David! Faith and David——”</p> + +<p>“You’re making her worse,” said Betty. “Go away, please, Bob. See, +she’ll lie down now.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>Exhausted, Miss Hope sank back on her pillow, and suddenly the +delirium left her.</p> + +<p>“You’re very good to me, my dear,” she whispered weakly. “I think +I’ll go to sleep.”</p> + +<p>Betty watched her for a few minutes till her even breathing told that +she really was asleep. Then she went in to see if Miss Charity had +been disturbed. She was awake and beckoned for Betty to come nearer +the bed.</p> + +<p>“Was Faith here?” she whispered painfully. Betty had to put her ear +down to her mouth to hear. “Has she come at last?”</p> + +<p>Betty shook her head sorrowfully. She had hoped the sick woman’s +voice had not reached her sister.</p> + +<p>“Miss Hope had more fever,” she said compassionately. “She has gone +to sleep now. If I bring you a little nice beef tea, don’t you think +you might take a nap, too?”</p> + +<p>The old lady was childishly pleased with the idea of something to eat +again, and Betty fixed her tray daintily and toasted a cracker to go +with the cup of really delicious home-made beef tea. Miss Charity +drank every drop, and fifteen minutes later Betty had the +satisfaction of seeing her go to sleep.</p> + +<p>Bob was out on the back porch, whittling furiously, a sure sign that +he was disturbed.</p> + +<p>“They’re my aunts, all right,” he began, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>soon as Betty appeared. +“I couldn’t be quite sure, in spite of the name and the coincidences, +but now I know it. Do you think I look like them, Betty?”</p> + +<p>“You look an awful lot like Miss Hope,” said Betty. “You look like +Miss Charity, too, but not nearly as much. Miss Hope has blue eyes, +you see. You haven’t seen Miss Charity yet, but her eyes are black. +I’m sure they are your aunts, Bob.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if they ever needed a husky nephew they need him now,” +declared Bob whimsically. “I don’t know how long they’ve been sick, +but this place looks as though no one had cleaned it up in a year. +The animals need currying, too.”</p> + +<p>“They haven’t been able to hire any help, I suppose,” said Betty. +“And I don’t believe you can get a hired man around here. The men are +all working in the oil fields. Ki is mad at the oil investors, and +that’s the only reason Will Watterby can keep him.”</p> + +<p>“Are they both asleep?” asked Bob, whose mind skipped topics with +amazing rapidity. “All right then, let’s go out to the barn. +Something tells me if you look around you’ll get a basket of eggs.”</p> + +<p>They had great fun doing the work together, and both agreed that if +they never thanked the Peabodys for another thing, they could say +truthfully <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>that they were thankful for the knowledge of farm work +learned on Bramble Farm. Bob knew what to feed the animals, how to +take care of them, and even what to do for a severe nail cut one of +the cows had suffered. Betty gathered a basket of eggs with little +hunting and also found several rat holes which Bob promptly attended +to by nailing tin over them.</p> + +<p>“We can’t start in and repair the whole place,” he said cheerfully. +“But we’ll do little jobs as fast as we come to them.”</p> + +<p>Both sisters were soundly sleeping when, the chores finished, Betty +and Bob came back to the house. They had their lunch, and then Bob +brought the dilapidated old lawn mower around to the back porch to +see if he could put it in running order. Betty sat down near him, +with the doors open so that she could hear the slightest movement +within the house, and worked fitfully at her tatting. She was +learning to make a pretty edge, under Grandma Watterby’s instruction, +but it did not progress very quickly, mainly because Betty was always +going off for long rides, or playing somewhere outdoors.</p> + +<p>“Look at that cloud of dust!” said Bob suddenly, glancing up from his +tinkering. “Some one is going somewhere in a hurry. He’s stopping. +Why, Betty, it’s Ed Manners!”</p> + +<p>Manners was a Flame City youth, a lad of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>about eighteen, and the son +of the postmaster. Bob and Betty ran down to the road to see him as +he stopped his motorcycle with skillful abruptness.</p> + +<p>“Will Watterby told me you were out here,” he called as soon as he +saw Bob. “Say, two more wells caught last night, and they say it’s +absolutely the biggest fire we’ve ever had. The close drilling has +made the trouble. Remember how Mr. Gordon used to rave over so many +derricks on an acre? Don’t you want to come with me, Bob? I’d take +you, too, Betty, but it is no place for a girl.”</p> + +<p>Ed Manners waved an inviting hand towards the side-car. Bob was eager +to go—what boy would not be?—and he knew that not to go would mean +that he was missing something which in all probability he would never +see again.</p> + +<p>“Go ahead, Bob,” urged Betty bravely. “I’ll be all right. Honestly I +will. If you don’t get back to-night, why, Doctor Morrison will be +out in the morning.”</p> + +<p>But Bob had made up his mind. He heard clearly again the final +commands of Mr. Gordon, his Uncle Dick, for whom he would do far more +than this.</p> + +<p>“Can’t go, Ed,” he said briefly and finally. “Sorry, but it isn’t to +be thought of. Betty and I have a job cut out for us right here.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>The lad on the motorcycle had no time to waste in arguing. He was +eager to get to the scene of excitement, and if Bob chose to throw up +a chance to see a spectacular fire, why, that was his business. With +a loud snort and a series of back-fires, the machine shot up the road +and in less than a minute was out of sight.</p> + +<p>“I hope, oh, I hope that Uncle Dick is all right,” worried Betty, +walking back to the house. “You needn’t have stayed with me, Bob. +Still, of course, I’m glad you did. I might be a little nervous at +night.”</p> + +<p>Bob thought it more than likely but all he said was that he wouldn’t +think of leaving her alone with two sick women and no telephone in +the house.</p> + +<p>“As soon as my aunts are well enough to hear the sad news that I’m +their long-lost nephew,” he said half in fun and half in earnest, “I +intend to have a ’phone put in for them. It’s outrageous to think of +two women living isolated like this.”</p> + +<p>The afternoon passed rapidly, Bob getting his machine in running +order and clipping a little square of lawn before supper time. Betty +fed her patients again, and again they went to sleep. After an early +supper Betty and Bob were glad to go to bed, too, and it seemed to +the former that she had been asleep only a few moments <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>when +something wakened her, and she sat up, startled.</p> + +<p>The moonlight was streaming in at her windows, silvering the stiff, +haircloth furniture and bathing the red and blue roses of the +Brussels carpet in a radiance that softened the glaring colors and +made them even beautiful. Betty was about to lie down and try to go +to sleep again when a cry came from Miss Hope.</p> + +<p>“Faith!” she moaned. “Faith, my dear little sister!”</p> + +<p>Betty was out of bed in a second and pattering toward the sufferer’s +room. Bob, half-dressed, appeared at the door leading into the +kitchen simultaneously.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let her see you,” warned Betty. “I think that makes her worse. +I wish I knew what to do when she gets these spells.”</p> + +<p>For some time Miss Hope rambled on about “Faith,” and would not be +persuaded to lie down. At last, after crying pitifully, she sank back +on the pillow and the phantoms seemed to leave her poor brain. Like a +child she dropped off into a deep sleep, and Bob and Betty were free +to creep back to their rooms and try to compose their nerves. Miss +Charity had slept peacefully through it all.</p> + +<p>The doctor, told of Miss Hope’s ravings, listened thoughtfully, but +did not seem to attach <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>much importance to the recital. He had driven +up early the following morning and brought the hopeful news that the +fire was said to be under control.</p> + +<p>“She’s always had a tendency to be flighty in any illness,” he said, +speaking of Miss Hope’s disorders. “Faith was a sister to whom she +was greatly attached. A pretty girl who married and went away before +I came here to practise. Miss Saunders told me once that from the +time of her marriage to this, not a word of her ever reached them. +She completely disappeared. Of course this has preyed on the minds of +both sisters, and it’s a wonder they haven’t broken down before +this.”</p> + +<p>Doctor Morrison stayed an hour or so, and praised Betty’s nursing +unstintedly. He said she seemed to know what to do instinctively and +had that rare tact of the born nurse which teaches her how to avoid +irritating her patients.</p> + +<p>Both Betty and Bob felt that they had no right to explore the house, +though they were interested to know what might be upstairs. Betty, +especially, was anxious to see the attic. She pictured trunks filled +with papers that might be of help and interest to Bob, and in her +experience an attic never failed to reveal a history of the family.</p> + +<p>She did find, in the parlor where she slept, an old album, and that +afternoon brought it out <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>on the porch to show it to Bob. She hoped +he might be able to recognize his mother among the tintypes and +photographs. But as soon as she stepped outdoors she saw something +which made her almost drop the precious old album and clutch Bob’s +arm wildly.</p> + +<p>“Look who’s coming in here!” she cried excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you know about that!” ejaculated the astonished Bob.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>STRANGE VISITORS</h3> + +<p>Walking jauntily down the path which now, thanks to Bob, was neat and +trim, came the two men who had aroused Bob’s suspicions on the train, +and whom he had followed into the smoking-car. They were dressed as +they had been then—gray suits, gray ties, socks and hats. The older +man was mopping his face with a very white handkerchief, and his +shorter companion was looking eagerly up at the house.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said the one with gray hair—Bob remembered that +he had been called Fluss—“is this the Saunders home—place, I +believe the natives call it?”</p> + +<p>He smiled at Betty, showing several gold teeth, and she shrank behind +Bob and hid the album under her apron.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Bob civilly. “This is the Saunders farm.”</p> + +<p>“We’d like to see,” the younger man spoke crisply and consulted a +small leather-bound note-book, “Miss Hope Saunders or her sister. +Miss Charity. Please take her our cards.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>He held out the two bits of pasteboard and Betty, looking over Bob’s +shoulder, was astonished to read, not “Cal Blosser” and “Jack Fluss,” +but “Irving Snead” and “George Elmer.” Each card, in the lower +left-hand corner, was lettered “The West Farm Agency.”</p> + +<p>Bob controlled whatever he was feeling, and handed back the cards +very politely.</p> + +<p>“My aunts are both very ill,” he said courteously. “They are under +the doctor’s care, and it will be impossible for them to see any one +for several weeks.”</p> + +<p>“But some one must be in charge,” urged Blosser, or Irving Snead, as +he seemed to prefer to be known. “Isn’t there some older person +about?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Gordon and I”—Betty thought that had a very nice sound as Bob +said it—“are taking care of them. It is hard to get help of any kind +because of the demand for workers at the fields and in Flame City. If +we can do anything for you——”</p> + +<p>“You can’t!” Fluss broke in sharply. “It’s very annoying not to be +able to see the Misses Saunders. We’ve come a good many miles, +thinking this place might suit one of our customers. He has a +delicate daughter, and he wants to get her out on a farm. This part +of Oklahoma ought to be beneficial for lung trouble. I suppose the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>old ladies would be willing to sell? The place is much run down and +not worth much, but if our client should take a fancy to it, he would +overlook the poor location and the condition of the buildings. Why +not let us talk to your aunts just a few minutes? You may be the +cause of their losing a sale.”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible for you to see them,” repeated Bob. “They’re in bed +and have fever and great difficulty in talking at all. I’m sorry, but +you can not see them to-day.”</p> + +<p>Blosser took out his handkerchief again and mopped his streaming +face. Betty, who would be kind to any one in distress, had gone in +for a glass of water and brought it out to him.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, my dear,” he murmured gratefully, gulping it down in one +long swallow while Fluss shook his head impatiently in answer to +Betty’s mute interrogation. “My, that tasted good,” Blosser added, +handing back the glass. “I don’t suppose you know whether your aunts +want to sell?” he shot at Bob. “Must be kind of hard for them to run +the farm all alone.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was,” admitted Bob, with a misleading air of confidence. +“Hereafter, of course, they’ll have me to help.”</p> + +<p>He did not know whether it would be wise to say any more or not; but +he could not resist one thrust.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>“I suppose in time they will sell,” he observed carelessly. “The farm +is sure to be bought up by some oil company.”</p> + +<p>Blosser and Fluss scowled darkly and looked at Bob with closer +attention.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know the old ladies had a nephew,” said Fluss suspiciously. +“Funny they didn’t mention it when I was driving through here last +spring, listing properties, eh?”</p> + +<p>“I never knew my aunts to confide personal and private affairs to +strangers,” said Bob calmly.</p> + +<p>Blosser turned on him angrily.</p> + +<p>“You’re fresh!” he snarled. “If you knew what was for your own good, +you’d keep a civil tongue in your head. Come on—er—Elmer, we’re +wasting time with this kid. We’ll come back and talk to the aunts.”</p> + +<p>Fluss still lingered. His gray eyes appraised Bob keenly and +something in their steady, disconcerting stare made Betty uneasy.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened to the town?” demanded Fluss abruptly. “Couldn’t +find even the oldest inhabitant hanging around the station. Everybody +gone to a funeral?”</p> + +<p>“There’s a big oil fire,” returned Bob. “Four or five wells have been +burning a couple of days now, though they say they have it under +control.”</p> + +<p>The word “oil” roused Blosser again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>“There ain’t no oil on this place,” he announced heavily. “I’ve seen +a lot of money sunk in dry wells, and what I don’t know about the oil +country ain’t worth mentioning. Isn’t that so, George? Traveling +round to list farms as I do, I just naturally make a study of the +sections. If ever I saw a poor risk, it’s this place; there ain’t an +inch of oil sand on it.”</p> + +<p>Betty’s hand on his arm telegraphed Bob not to argue.</p> + +<p>“You may be right,” the boy replied indifferently. “We won’t quarrel +over that.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be said, and the two men turned away, +Blosser putting the cards down on the step with the curt wish that +“You’d hand those to your aunts and tell ’em we’ll drop in again in a +couple of days.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad they’ve gone!” Betty watched the retreating backs +till they disappeared around a bend in the road. “Did you see how the +older man stared at you, Bob? Do you suppose he remembers seeing you +on the train?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not!” Bob openly scoffed at the suggestion. “They were +stumped because they couldn’t see my aunts, that’s all. I only hope +they forget to come around here until I’ve had a chance to warn my +relatives—get that, Betty? My relatives sounds pretty good, doesn’t +it?—against their crooked ways. If they don’t believe <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>there is oil +on this farm, I’ll eat my hat. No client with a delicate daughter +could explain their eagerness. I’ll bet they’ve thoroughly prospected +the fields before they even approached the house.”</p> + +<p>Betty could not share Bob’s light-heartedness. The look in the older +man’s eyes as he studied Bob would persist in sticking in her mind, +and she was unable to rid herself of the feeling that he would do the +boy actual harm if a chance presented. What he hoped to gain by +injuring Bob, Betty could not thoroughly understand, but added to her +anxiety for her uncle and the responsibility she felt for the sick +women, was now added a fear for Bob’s safety. She tried to tell him +something of this, but he laughed at her.</p> + +<p>“If you have a vision of me kidnapped by the cruel sharpers,” he +teased her, “forget it. What were my voice and my two trusty arms and +legs given me for? I can take care of myself and you, too, Betsey.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Betty’s tranquillity was sorely shaken, and though she +gradually became calmer as the day wore on, she insisted on going out +with Bob to do the chores at the barn that night, and extracted a +promise from him that he would call her when he got up in the morning +so that she might make the morning rounds with him. Luckily Miss Hope +passed a quiet night, for if <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>she had called for her lost sister +again it is difficult to say what the effect might have been on +Betty’s already tried nerves.</p> + +<p>One of her anxieties was removed to some extent the next morning when +Doctor Morrison came out in his car and brought her word that her +uncle had telephoned the Watterbys and sent Betty a message.</p> + +<p>“The connection was very faulty,” said the doctor, “and Will Watterby +says he doesn’t believe he made your uncle understand where you and +Bob were. But he made out that Mr. Gordon was safe and the fire +slackening up a bit. He doesn’t expect to be able to get away under a +week. Of course work is demoralized, and he’ll have his hands full.”</p> + +<p>Both Betty and Bob were overjoyed to learn that Uncle Dick was all +right, and when the doctor pronounced both patients on the road to +certain recovery, they were additionally cheered. They said nothing +to the physician of their visitors of the day before, because Bob was +unwilling to announce that he was a nephew of the Saunders. He wished +them to hear it first.</p> + +<p>“I think Miss Hope might sit up for a few minutes this afternoon,” +counseled the doctor on leaving. “Miss Charity might try that +to-morrow. Of course, I’ll be out again in the morning. You two +youngsters are in my mind continually.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>He drove away, and for the rest of the day Bob was left pretty much +to his own devices, Betty, however, stipulating that he was to stay +close to the house. She could not shake off her fear of the two men, +and Bob was far too considerate to worry her deliberately when she +had so much to attend to.</p> + +<p>Miss Hope was delighted to sit up for half an hour, and now that her +patients were stronger, Betty was put to it to keep them amused and +contented in bed. The doctor’s orders were strict that they were not +to get up for at least two more days.</p> + +<p>Betty read aloud to them, seated in the doorway between the two rooms +so that both could hear; she gave them reports of the condition of +things outside; and Miss Hope said primly that she would like to meet +and thank the boy who had been so kind as soon as she could be +“suitably attired.” Betty was thankful that she did not ask his name, +but the sisters were not at all curious. They had been so ill and +were still weak, and the fact that their household and farm was +apparently running smoothly was enough for them to grasp. The details +did not claim their attention.</p> + +<p>“Charity was sick first,” said Miss Hope, over her beef tea and +toast. “What delicious tea this is, my dear! Yes, she was down for +two days, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>and I took care of her and did the milking. Then I felt a +cold coming on, but I crawled around for another day, doing the best +I could. The night before the day you came I went out to milk and I +must have fainted. When I came to I was within an inch of old +Blossom’s hoofs. That scared me, and I came right into the house +without finishing a chore. I think I was delirious all night, and I +remember thinking that if we were both going to die, at least I’d +have things as orderly as possible. So I went around and pulled down +all the first floor shades. Upstairs we always keep ’em drawn. And +then I don’t remember another thing till I came to and found you in +the room.”</p> + +<p>“And she didn’t come a minute too soon,” croaked Miss Charity.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>LOOKING BACKWARD</h3> + +<p>Doctor Morrison declared that it was due to Betty’s skill in nursing +more than to his drugs, but it is certain that, once started, the +aunts gained steadily. In two or three days from the time they first +sat up he pronounced it safe for them to be dressed, and while they +were still a bit shaky, they took great delight in walking about the +house.</p> + +<p>Bob was introduced to them off-handedly one morning by the doctor, +and though both old ladies started at his name, they said nothing. +After the physician’s car had gone, Miss Hope came out on to the back +porch where Betty was peeling potatoes and Bob mending a loose +floor-board.</p> + +<p>“My sister and I——” stammered Miss Hope, “we were wondering if you +were a neighbor’s boy. We’ve seen so little of our neighbors these +last few years, that we haven’t kept track of the new families who +have moved into the neighborhood. I don’t recollect any Hendersons +about here, do you, Sister?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>Miss Charity, who had followed her, shook her head.</p> + +<p>Bob looked at Betty, and Betty looked helplessly at Bob. Now that the +time had come they were afraid of the effect the news might have on +the sisters. Bob, as he said afterward, “didn’t know how to begin,” +and Betty wished fervently that her uncle could be there to help them +out.</p> + +<p>“A long time ago,” said Miss Hope dreamily, “we knew a man named +Henderson, David Henderson. He married our younger sister.”</p> + +<p>Caution deserted Bob, and, without intending to, he made his +announcement.</p> + +<p>“David Henderson was my father,” he stated.</p> + +<p>Miss Hope turned so white that Betty thought she would faint, and +Miss Charity’s mouth opened in speechless amazement.</p> + +<p>“Then you are Faith’s son,” said Miss Hope slowly, clinging to the +door for support. “Ever since Doctor Morrison introduced you, I +wanted to stare at you, you looked so like the Saunders. Faith +didn’t—she was more like the Dixons, our mother’s people. But you +are Saunders through and through; isn’t he, Charity?”</p> + +<p>“He looks so much like you,” quavered Miss Charity, “that I’d know in +a minute he was related to us. But Faith—your mother—is she, did +she——?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p><p>“She died the night I was born,” said Bob simply. “Almost fifteen +years ago.”</p> + +<p>The sisters must have expected this; indeed, hope that their sister +lived had probably deserted them years ago; and yet the confirmation +was naturally something of a shock. They clung to each other for a +moment, and then Miss Hope, rather to Bob’s embarrassment, walked +over to him and solemnly kissed him.</p> + +<p>“My dear, dear nephew!” she murmured.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Charity, more timidly, kissed him too, and presently they +were all sitting down quietly on the porch, checking up the long +years.</p> + +<p>When Bob’s tin box was finally opened, and the marriage certificate +of his parents, the picture of his mother in her wedding gown, and a +yellowed letter or two examined and cried over softly by the aunts, +Miss Hope began to piece together the story of their lives since +Bob’s mother had left them. Bob and Betty had found Faith’s +photograph in the family album, but Miss Hope brought out the old +Bible and showed them where her mother had made the entry of the +marriage of his mother and father.</p> + +<p>“They went away for a week for their wedding trip, and then came back +to get a few things for housekeeping,” said the old lady, patting +Betty’s hand where it lay in her lap. Bob was still looking over the +Bible. “Then they said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>they were going to Chicago, and they drove +away one bright morning, eighteen years ago. And not one word did we +ever hear from Faith, or from David, not one word. It killed father +and mother, the anxiety and the suspense. They died within a week of +each other and less than a year after Faith went. Charity and I +always wanted to go to Chicago and hunt for ’em, but there was the +expense. We had only this farm, and the interest took every cent we +could rake together. How on earth we’ll pay it this year is more than +I can see.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think was the reason they didn’t write?” urged Miss +Charity, in her gentle old voice. “There were almost three years +’fore you came along. Why couldn’t they write? I know David was good +to Faith—he worshiped her. So that couldn’t have been the reason. +Bob, is your father dead, too?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you, though perhaps I shouldn’t,” said Bob slowly. “If I +give you pain, remember it is better to hear it from me than from a +stranger, as you otherwise might. Aunt Hope—and Aunt Charity—I was +born in the Gladden county poorhouse, in the East.”</p> + +<p>There was a gasp from Miss Hope, but Bob hurried on, pretending not +to hear.</p> + +<p>“My father, they think, was killed in a railroad wreck,” he said. “At +least there was a bad <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>wreck several miles from where they found my +mother nearly crazed and with no baggage beyond this little tin box +and the clothes she wore. Grief and exposure had driven her almost +out of her mind, and in her ravings, they tell me, she talked +continuously about ‘the brakes’ and ‘that glaring headlight.’ And +then, toward the end, she spoke of her husband and said she couldn’t +wake him up to speak to her. There is small doubt in my mind but that +he died in the wreck. Mother died the night I was born, and until I +was ten I lived in the poorhouse. Then I was hired out to a farmer, +and the third year on his place I met Betty, who came to spend the +summer there. An old bookman, investigating a pile of old books and +records at the poorhouse, found that Saunders was my mother’s maiden +name and he traced my relatives for me.”</p> + +<p>Bob briefly sketched his trip to Washington and his experiences +there, and during the recital the aunts learned a great deal about +Betty, too. Their first shock at hearing that their sister had died +in the poorhouse gradually lessened, but they were still puzzled to +account for the three years’ silence that had preceded his birth.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you how I think it was,” said Bob. “This is only +conjecture, mind. I think my father wasn’t successful in a business +way, and he must have wanted to give my mother comforts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>and luxuries +and a pleasant home. He probably kept thinking that in a few weeks +things would be better, and insensibly he persuaded her to put off +writing till she could ask you to come to see her. If she had lived +after I was born, I am sure she would have written, whether my father +prospered or not. But I imagine they were both proud.”</p> + +<p>“Faith was,” assented Miss Hope. “Though dear knows, she needn’t have +hesitated to have written home for a little help. Father would have +been glad to send her money, for he admired David and liked him. He +was a fine looking young man, Bob, tall and slender and with such +magnificent dark eyes. And Faith was a beautiful girl.”</p> + +<p>All the rest of that day the aunts kept recalling stories of Bob’s +mother, and in the attic, just as Betty had known there would be, +they opened a trunk that was full of little keepsakes she had +treasured as a girl.</p> + +<p>Bob handled the things in the little square trunk very tenderly and +reverently and tried to picture the young girl who had packed them +away so carefully the week before her wedding.</p> + +<p>“They’re yours, Bob,” said Miss Hope. “Faith was going to send for +that trunk as soon as she was settled. Of course she never did. The +farm will be yours, too, some day; in fact, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>a third of it’s yours +now, or will be when you come of age. Father left it that way in his +will—to us three daughters share and share alike, and you’ll have +Faith’s share. Poor Father! He was sure that we’d hear from Faith, +and he thought he’d left us all quite well off. But we had to put a +mortgage on the farm about ten years ago, and every year it’s harder +and harder to get along. Charity and I are too old—that’s the truth. +And some stock Father left us we traded off for some paying eight per +cent., and that company failed.”</p> + +<p>“You see,” explained Miss Charity in her gentle way, “we don’t know +anything about business. That man wasn’t honest who sold us the +stock, but Hope and I thought he couldn’t cheat us—he was a friend +of Father’s.”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t let any one swindle you again,” said Bob, a trifle +excitedly. “You don’t have to worry about interest and taxes, any +more, Aunts. You have a fortune right here in your own dooryard; or +if not exactly out by the pump, then very near it!”</p> + +<p>The sisters looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” insisted Betty, as they gazed at her to see if Bob were +in earnest. “The farm is worth thousands of dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Oil!” exploded Bob. “You can lease or sell outright, and there isn’t +the slightest doubt that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>there’s oil sand on the place. Betty’s +uncle will know. Uncle Dick is an expert oil man.”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope shook her head.</p> + +<p>“My dear nephew,” she urged protestingly, “surely you must be +mistaken. Sister and I have seen no evidences of oil. No one has ever +mentioned the subject or the possibilities to us. There are no oil +wells very near here. Don’t you speak unadvisedly?”</p> + +<p>“I should say not!” Bob was positive if not as precise as his aunt. +“There’s oil here, or all the wells in the fields are dry. The farm +is a gold mine.”</p> + +<p>Betty rose hurriedly and pointed toward the window in alarm. They had +been sitting in the parlor, and she faced the bar of late afternoon +sunlight that lay on the floor.</p> + +<p>“I saw the shadow of some one,” she whispered in alarm. “It crossed +that patch of sunlight. Bob, I am afraid!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>BETTY IS STOPPED</h3> + +<p>“Doctor Morrison, maybe,” said Bob carelessly. “Gee, Betty, you +certainly are nervous! I’ll run around the house and see if there’s +any one about.”</p> + +<p>He dashed out, and though he hunted thoroughly, reported that he +could find no one.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t the doctor, that’s sure,” he said. “And the grocer’s boy +would have gone to the back of the house. Are you sure you saw +anything, Betty?”</p> + +<p>“I saw a man’s shadow,” averred Betty positively. “I was sitting +facing the window, you know, and watching the million little motes +dancing in the shaft of light, when a shadow, full length, fell on +the floor. It was for only a second, as though some one had stepped +across the porch. Then I told you. Bob, I know I shan’t sleep a wink +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” said Bob stoutly. “Who could it have been? Goodness +knows, there’s nothing worth stealing in the house.”</p> + +<p>“Those sharpers,” whispered Betty. “They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>might have come back and be +hanging around hoping they can make your aunts sell the farm to +them.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see them try it,” bristled Bob. “Isn’t it funny, Betty, +we can’t make the aunts believe there is oil here? I think Aunt +Charity might, but Aunt Hope is so positive she rides right over her. +Well, I hope that Uncle Dick comes back from the fields mighty quick +and persuades them that they have a fortune ready for the spending.”</p> + +<p>Despite Bob’s assurances that he could find no one, Betty was uneasy, +and she passed a restless night. The next day and the next passed +without incident, save for a visit from Doctor Morrison in the late +afternoon. He did not come every day now, and this call, he +announced, was more in the nature of a social call. He had been told +of Bob’s relationship to the old ladies and was interested and +pleased, for he had known them for as long as he had lived in that +section. He carried the good news to Grandma Watterby, too, and that +kind soul, as an expression of her pleasure, insisted on sending the +aunts two of her best braided rugs.</p> + +<p>“I have a note for you from your uncle, Betty,” said the doctor, +after he had delivered the rugs.</p> + +<p>People often intrusted him with messages and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>letters and packages, +for his work took him everywhere. He had been to the oil fields and +seen Mr. Gordon and had been able to give him a full account of +Betty’s and Bob’s activities. In a postscript Mr. Gordon had added +his congratulations and good wishes for “my nephew Bob.” The body of +the letter, addressed to Betty, praised her for her service to the +aunts and said that the writer hoped to get back to the Watterbys +within three or four days.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I’ll need a little rest by then,” he went on to say, “for +I’ve been in the machine night and day for longer than I +care to think about. We’re clearing away the debris of the +fire, and drilling two new wells.”</p></div> + +<p>The doctor was persuaded to stay to supper, which was a meal to be +remembered, for Miss Hope was a famous cook and she spared neither +eggs nor butter, a liberality which the close-fisted Joseph Peabody +would have blamed for her poverty.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the strained financial circumstances of the +two old women. Every day that Bob spent with them disclosed some new +makeshift to avoid the expenditure of money, and both house and barns +were sadly in need of repairs. Bob himself was able to do many little +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>odd jobs, a nail driven here, a bit of plastering there, that tended +to make the premises more habitable, and he worked incessantly and +gladly, determined that his aunts should never do another stroke of +work outside the house.</p> + +<p>They were normal in health again and Betty had suggested that she go +back to the Watterbys. But they looked so stricken at the mention of +such a plan, and seemed so genuinely anxious to have her stay, that +she promised not to leave till her uncle came for her. Bob, too, was +relieved by her decision, for his promise to Mr. Gordon still held +good, and yet he felt that his place was with his aunts.</p> + +<p>The shades all over the house were up now, and the four bedrooms on +the second floor in use once more. They were sparsely furnished, like +those downstairs, but everything was neat and clean. Miss Charity +confided to Betty that she and her sister had been forced to sell +their best furniture, some old-fashioned mahogany pieces included, to +meet a note they had given to a neighbor. The two poor sisters seemed +to have been the prey of unscrupulous sharpers since the death of +their parents, and Betty fervently hoped that Bob would be able to +stave off the pseudo real-estate men till her uncle could advise +them.</p> + +<p>A few days after the doctor’s call Betty decided that what she needed +was a good gallop <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>on Clover. She had had little time for riding +since she had been nurse and housekeeper, and the little horse was +becoming restive from too much confinement.</p> + +<p>“A ride will do you good,” declared Miss Hope, in her eager, positive +fashion. “I suppose you’ll stop in at Grandma Watterby’s? Tell her +Charity and I thank her very much for the rugs and for the beef tea +she sent us.”</p> + +<p>The road from the Saunders farm was the main highway to Flame City, +and Bob, who in his capacity of guardian felt his responsibility +keenly, saw no harm in Betty’s riding it alone. It was morning, and +she would have lunch with the Watterbys and come back in the early +afternoon. Everything looked all right, and he bade her a cheerful +good-bye.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it great, Clover, to be out for fun?” Betty asked, as the +horse snuffed the fresh air in great delight. “I guess you thought +you were going to have to stay in the stable, or be turned out to +grass like an old lady, for the rest of your life, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>Clover snorted, and settled down into her favorite canter. Betty +enjoyed the sense of motion and the rush of the wind, and horse and +girl had a glorious hour before they drew rein at the Watterby gate.</p> + +<p>“Well, bless her heart, did she come to see us <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>at last!” cried +Grandma Watterby, hurrying down to greet her. “Emma!” she called. +“Emma! Just see who’s come to stay with us.”</p> + +<p>The old woman was greatly disappointed when Betty explained that she +must go back after lunch, dinner, as the noon meal was made at the +Watterby table, but the girl was not to be persuaded to stay over +night. She had promised Bob.</p> + +<p>Every one, from Grandma Watterby to the Prices, had an innocent +curiosity, wholly friendly, to hear about Bob and his aunts, and +Betty was glad to gratify it. She told the whole story, only omitting +the portion that dealt with the death of Bob’s mother in the +poorhouse, rightly reasoning that the Misses Saunders would want to +keep this fact from old neighbors and friends. The household rejoiced +with Bob that he had found his kindred, and Grandma Watterby +expressed the sentiments of all when she said that “Bob will take +care of them two old women and be a prop to ’em for their remaining +years.”</p> + +<p>Ki, the Indian, had the fox skin cured, and proudly showed it to +Betty. She was delighted with the silky pelt and ran upstairs to put +it in her trunk while Ki saddled Clover for the return trip. She knew +that a good furrier would make her a stunning neck-piece for the +winter from the fur.</p> + +<p>It was slightly after half past one when Betty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>started for the +Saunders farm, and as the day was warm and the patches of shade few +and far between, she let Clover take her own time. In a lonely +stretch of road, out of sight of any house or building, two men +stepped quietly from some bushes at the side of the road, and laid +hands on Clover’s bridle. Betty recognized them as the two men +dressed in gray whom Bob had followed on the train, and who had +interviewed him while the aunts were ill.</p> + +<p>“Don’t scream!” warned the man called Blosser. “We don’t go to hurt +you, and you’ll be all right if you don’t make trouble. All we want +you to do is to answer a few questions.”</p> + +<p>Betty was trembling, more through nervousness than fright, though she +was afraid, too. But she managed to stammer that if she could answer +their questions, she would.</p> + +<p>“That fresh kid we saw with you the other day, back at the Saunders +farm,” said Blosser, jerking his thumb in the general direction of +the three hills. “Is he going to be there long?”</p> + +<p>Betty did not know whether anything she might say would injure Bob or +not, and she wisely concluded that the best plan would be to answer +as truthfully as possible.</p> + +<p>“I suppose he will live there,” she said quietly. “He is their +nephew, you know.”</p> + +<p>Fluss looked disgustedly at his companion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>“Can you beat that?” he demanded in an undertone. “The kid has to +turn up just when he isn’t wanted. The old ladies never had a nephew +to my knowledge, and now they allow themselves to be imposed on +by——”</p> + +<p>A look from Blosser restrained him.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Fluss addressed himself to Betty, “do you know anything about +how the farm was left? Where’s the kid’s mother? Disinherited? Was +the place left to these old maids? It was, wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“What he means,” interrupted Blosser, “is, do you know whether this +boy would come in for any of the money if some one bought the farm? +We’ve a client who would like to buy and farm it, as I was saying the +other day.”</p> + +<p>“Bob is entitled to one-third,” said Betty coolly, having in a +measure recovered her composure.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he is, is he?” snarled the older man. “I thought he had a good +deal to say about the place. Did the old maids get well? Are they up +and about?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Hope and Miss Charity are much better,” answered Betty, +flushing indignantly. “And now will you let me go?”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” grinned Fluss. “We haven’t got this relation business all +straightened out. What I want you to tell me——”</p> + +<p>But Betty had seen the opportunity for which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>she had been waiting. +Fluss had removed his hand from the bridle for an instant, and Betty +pulled back on the reins. Ki had taught Clover to rear at this signal +and strike out with her forefeet. She obeyed beautifully, and +involuntarily the two men fell back. Betty urged Clover ahead and +they dashed down the road.</p> + +<p>Betty forced her mount to gallop all the way home and startled Bob by +dashing into the yard like a whirlwind. The horse was flecked with +foam and Betty was white-faced and wild-eyed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Bob!” she gasped hysterically, tumbling from the saddle, “those +sharpers are still here! They stopped me down the road!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>WHERE IS BOB?</h3> + +<p>Bob’s chief feeling, after hearing the story, was one of intense +indignation.</p> + +<p>“Pretty cheap, I call it,” he growled, “to stop a girl and frighten +her. The miserable cowards! Just let me get a crack at them once!”</p> + +<p>“Bob Henderson, you stay right on this farm,” cried Betty, her alarm +returning. “They weren’t trying to frighten me—at least, that wasn’t +their main purpose. They wanted to find out about you. They’ll kidnap +you, or do something dreadful to you. I wish with all my heart that +Uncle Dick would come.”</p> + +<p>“Well, look here, Betty,” argued Bob, impressed in spite of himself +by her reasoning, “I’m pretty husky and I might have something to say +if they tried to do away with me. Besides, what would be their +object?”</p> + +<p>Betty admitted that she did not know, unless, she added dismally, +they planned to set the house on fire some night and burn up the +whole family.</p> + +<p>Bob laughed, and refused to consider this seriously. But for the next +few days Betty dogged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>his footsteps like the faithful friend she +was, and though the boy found this trying at times he could not find +it in his heart to protest.</p> + +<p>Miss Hope and Miss Charity were very happy these days. For a while +they forgot that the interest was due the next month, that no amount +of patient figuring could show them how the year’s taxes were to be +met, and that the butter and egg money was their sole source of +income. Instead, they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of having +young folk in the quiet house and to the contemplation of Bob as +their nephew. Faith had died, but she had left them a legacy—her +son, who would be a prop to them in their old age.</p> + +<p>Miss Hope and Miss Charity were talking things over one morning when +Betty and Bob were out whitewashing the neglected hen house. Though +the sisters protested, they insisted on doing some of the most +pressing of the heavy tasks long neglected.</p> + +<p>“I really do not see,” said Miss Hope, “how we are to feed and clothe +the child until he is old enough to earn his living. Of course +Faith’s son must have a good education. Betty tells me he is very +anxious to go to school this winter. He is determined to get a job, +but of course he is much too young to be self-supporting. If only we +hadn’t traded that stock!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>“Maybe what he says about the farm being worth a large sum of money +is true,” said Miss Charity timidly. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if +there should be oil here, Sister?”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope was a lady, and ladies do not snort, but she came +perilously near to it.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” she retorted, crushing her twin with a look. “I’m surprised +at you, Charity! A woman of your age should have more strength of +character than to believe in every fairy tale. Of course Bob and +Betty think there is oil on the farm—they believe in rainbows and +all the other pretty fancies that you and I have outgrown. Besides, I +never did take much stock in this oil talk. I don’t think the Lord +would put a fortune into any one’s hands so easily. It’s a lazy man’s +idea of earning a living.”</p> + +<p>Miss Charity subsided without another reference to oil. Truth to +tell, she did not believe in her heart of hearts that there was oil +sand on the old farm, and she and her sister had been out of touch +with the outside world so long that to a great extent they were +ignorant of the proportions of the oil boom that had struck Flame +City.</p> + +<p>Bob had the stables in good order soon after his arrival, and a day +or so before Mr. Gordon was expected he took it into his head to +tinker up the cow stanchions. The two rather scrubby <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>cows were +turned out into the near-by pasture, and Bob set valiantly to work.</p> + +<p>Betty was helping the aunts in the kitchen that afternoon, and the +three were surprised when Bob thrust a worried face in at the door +and announced that the black and white cow had disappeared.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I pegged her down tightly,” he explained. “That pasture +fence is no good at all, and I never trusted to it. I pegged Blossom +down with a good long rope, and Daisy, too; and Daisy is gone while +Blossom is still eating her head off.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come and help you hunt,” offered Betty. “The last pan of +cookies is in the oven, isn’t it, Aunt Hope? Wait till I wash my +hands, Bob.”</p> + +<p>Betty now called Bob’s aunts as he did, at their own request, and +anyway, said Miss Hope, if Betty’s uncle could be Bob’s, too, why +shouldn’t she have two aunts as well as he?</p> + +<p>“Where do you think she went?” questioned Betty, hurrying off with +Bob. “Is the fence broken in any place?”</p> + +<p>“One place it looks as though she might have stepped over,” said Bob +doubtfully. “The whole thing is so old and tottering that a good +heavy cow could blow it down by breathing on it! There, see that +corner? Daisy might have ambled through there.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>“Then you go that way, and I’ll work around the other end of the +farm,” suggested Betty. “In that way, we’ll cover every inch. A cow +is such a silly creature that you’re sure to find her where you’d +least expect to. The first one to come back will put one bar down so +we’ll know and go on up to the house.”</p> + +<p>Betty went off in one direction and Bob in another, and for a moment +she heard his merry whistling. Then all was silent.</p> + +<p>Betty, for a little while, enjoyed her search. She had had no time to +explore the Saunders farm, and though much of it was of a deadly +sameness, the three hills, whose shadows rested always on the fields, +were beautiful to see, and the air was wonderfully bracing. Shy jack +rabbits dodged back and forth between the bushes as Betty walked, and +once, when she investigated a thicket that looked as though it might +shelter the truant Daisy, the girl disturbed a guinea hen that flew +out with a wild flapping of wings.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see where that cow can have gone,” murmured Betty uneasily. +“Bob is never careless, and I’m sure he must have pegged her down +carefully. Losing one of the cows is serious, for the aunts count +every pint of milk; they have to, poor dears. I wish to goodness they +would admit that there might be oil on the farm. I’m sure it +irritates Bob to be told so flatly that he is dreaming <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>day-dreams +every time he happens to say a word about an oil well.”</p> + +<p>Betty searched painstakingly, even going out into the road and +hunting a short stretch, lest the cow should have strayed out on the +highway. The fields through which she tramped were woefully +neglected, and more than once she barely saved herself from a turned +ankle, for the land was uneven and dead leaves and weeds filled many +a hole. Evidently there had been no systematic cultivation of the +farm for a number of years.</p> + +<p>The sun was low when Betty finally came out in the pasture lot. She +glanced toward the bars, saw one down, and sighed with relief. Bob, +then, had found the cow, or at least he was at home. She knew that +the chances were he had brought Daisy with him, for Bob had the +tenacity of a bull-dog and would not easily abandon his hunt.</p> + +<p>“Did Bob find her?” demanded Betty, bursting into the kitchen where +Miss Hope and Miss Charity were setting the table for supper.</p> + +<p>The aunts looked up, smiled at the flushed, eager face, and Miss +Charity answered placidly.</p> + +<p>“Bob hasn’t come back, dearie,” she said. “You know how boys +are—he’ll probably look under every stone for that miserable Daisy. +She’s a good cow, but to think she would run off!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s back, I know he is,” insisted Betty confidently. “I’ll run +out to the barn. I guess <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>he is going to do the chores before he +comes in.”</p> + +<p>She thought it odd that Bob had not told his aunts of his return, but +she was so sure that he was in the barn that she shouted his name as +she entered the door. Clover whinnied, but no voice answered her. +Blossom was in her stanchion. Bob had placed her there before setting +out to hunt, and everything was just as he had left it, even to his +hammer lying on the barn floor.</p> + +<p>Betty went into the pig house, the chicken house and yard, and every +outbuilding. No Bob was in sight.</p> + +<p>“But he put the bar down—that was our signal,” she said to herself, +over and over.</p> + +<p>“Don’t fret, dearie. Sit down and eat your supper,” counseled Miss +Hope placidly, when she had to report that she could not find him. +“He may be real late. I’ll keep a plate hot for him.”</p> + +<p>The supper dishes were washed and dried, the table cleared, and a +generous portion of biscuits and honey set aside for Bob. Miss Hope +put on an old coat and went out with Betty to feed the stock, for it +was growing dark and she did not want the boy to have it all to do +when he came in tired.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do the milking,” said Betty hurriedly. “I’m not much of a +milker, but I guess I can manage. Bob hates to milk when it is dark.”</p> + +<p>In the girl’s heart a definite fear was growing. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>Something had +happened to Bob! Milking, the thought of the sharpers came to her. +Oddly enough they had not been in her mind for several days. The bar! +Had they anything to do with the one bar being down?</p> + +<p>Neither she nor Bob had ever said a word to his aunts on the subject +of the two men in gray, arguing that there was no use in making the +old ladies nervous. Now that the full responsibility had devolved +upon Betty, she was firmly resolved to say no word concerning the men +who had stopped her in the road and asked her questions about Bob.</p> + +<p>She finished milking Blossom, and fastened the barn door behind her. +Glancing toward the house, she saw Miss Hope come flying toward her, +wringing her hands.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Betty!” she wailed, “something has happened to Bob! I heard a +cow low, and I went out front, and there Daisy stood on the lawn. I’m +afraid Bob is lying somewhere with a broken leg!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>OFF FOR HELP</h3> + +<p>Betty’s heart thumped, but she managed to control her voice. She was +now convinced that the sharpers had something to do with Bob’s +disappearance.</p> + +<p>Miss Hope was so beside herself with grief and fear that Betty +thought, with the practical wisdom that was far beyond her years, +that it would be better for her to occupy herself with searching than +to remain in the house and let her imagination run riot.</p> + +<p>Miss Charity came tremblingly out with a lantern, and after the milk +was strained—for the habits of every day living hold even in times +of trouble and distress—they set out, an old lady on either side of +Betty, who had taken the lantern.</p> + +<p>It was a weird performance, that tramp over the uneven fields with a +flickering lantern throwing dim shadows before them and the bushes +and trees assuming strange and terrifying shapes, fantastic beyond +the power of clear daylight to make them. More than once Miss Charity +started <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>back in fright, and Miss Hope, who was stronger, shook so +with nervousness that she found it difficult to walk. Betty, too, was +much overwrought, and it is probable that if either a jack rabbit or +a white owl had crossed the path of the three there would have been +instant flight. However, they saw nothing more alarming than their +own shadows and a few harmless little insects that the glow of the +lantern attracted.</p> + +<p>“Suppose the poor, dear boy is lying somewhere with a broken leg!” +Miss Hope kept repeating. “How would we get a doctor for him? Could +we get him back to the house?”</p> + +<p>“Think how selfish we were to sit down and eat supper—we ought to +have known something was wrong with him,” grieved Miss Charity. “I’d +rather have lost both cows than have anything happen to Bob.”</p> + +<p>Betty could not share their fear that Bob was injured. The memory of +that one bar down haunted her, though she could give no explanation. +Then the cow had come back. Betty had positive proof that the animal +had not wandered to the half of the farm she had explored, and Bob’s +section had been nearer the house. Why had Daisy stayed away till +almost dark, when milking time was at half past five? And the cow had +been milked! Betty forebore to call the aunts’ attention to this, and +they were too engrossed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>in their own conjectures to have noticed the +fact.</p> + +<p>“Well, he isn’t on the farm.” Miss Hope made this reluctant admission +after they had visited every nook and cranny. “What can have become +of him?”</p> + +<p>Miss Charity was almost in a state of collapse, and her sister and +Betty both saw that she must be taken home. It was hard work, going +back without Bob, and once in the kitchen, Miss Charity was +hysterical, clinging to her sister and sobbing that first Faith had +died and now her boy was missing.</p> + +<p>“But we’ll find him, dear,” urged Miss Hope. “He can’t be lost. A +strong boy of fourteen can’t be lost; can he, Betty?”</p> + +<p>“Of course we’ll find him,” asserted Betty stoutly. “I’m going to +ride to the Watterbys in the morning and telephone to Uncle Dick. He +will know what to do. You won’t mind staying alone for a couple of +hours, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Not in the daytime,” quavered Miss Charity. “But my, I’m glad you’re +here to-night, Betty. Sister and I never used to be afraid, but you +and Bob have spoiled us. We don’t like to stay alone.”</p> + +<p>Betty slept very little that night. Aside from missing Bob’s +protection—and how much she had relied on him to take care of them +she did not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>realize until she missed him—there were the demands +made on her by the old ladies, who both suffered from bad dreams. +During much of the night Betty’s active mind insisted on going over +and over the most trivial points of the day. Always she came back to +the two mysteries that she could not discuss with the aunts: Who had +put the single bar down, and who had milked the cow?</p> + +<p>Breakfast was a sorry pretense the next morning, and Betty was glad +to hurry out to the barn and feed and water the stock and milk the +two cows. It was hard and heavy work and she was not skilled at it, +and so took twice as long a time as Bob usually did. Then, when she +had saddled Clover and changed to her riding habit, she sighted the +mail car down the road and waited to see if the carrier had brought +her any later news of her uncle. The Watterbys promptly sent her any +letters that came addressed to her there.</p> + +<p>There was no news, but the delay was fifteen minutes or so, and when +Betty finally started for the Watterbys it was after nine o’clock. +She had no definite plan beyond telephoning to her uncle and +imploring him to come and help them hunt for Bob.</p> + +<p>“Where could he be?” mourned poor Miss Hope, with maddening +persistency. “We looked all over the farm, and yet where could he be? +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>If he went to any of the neighbors to inquire, and was taken sick, +he’d send us word. I don’t see where he can be!”</p> + +<p>Betty hurried Clover along, half-dreading another encounter with the +men who had stopped her. She passed the place where she had been +stopped, and a bit further on met Doctor Morrison on his way to a +case, his car raising an enormous cloud of dust in the roadway. He +pulled out to allow her room, recognized her, and waved a friendly +hand as he raced by. By this token Betty knew he was in haste, for he +always stopped to talk to her and ask after the Saunders sisters.</p> + +<p>The Watterby place, when she reached it, seemed deserted. The +hospitable front door was closed, and the shining array of milk pans +on the back porch was the only evidence that some one had been at +work that morning. No Grandma Watterby came smiling down to the gate, +no busy Mrs. Will Watterby came to the window with her sleeves rolled +high.</p> + +<p>“Well, for pity’s sake!” gasped Betty, completely astounded. “I never +knew them to go off anywhere all at once. Never! Mrs. Watterby is +always so busy. I wonder if anything has happened.”</p> + +<p>“Hello! Hello!” A shout from the roadway <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>made her turn. “You looking +for Mr. Watterby?”</p> + +<p>“I’m looking for any one of them,” explained Betty, smiling at the +tow-haired boy who stood grinning at her. “Are they all away?”</p> + +<p>“Yep. They’re out riding in an automobile,” announced the boy +importantly. “Grandma Watterby’s great-nephew, up to Tippewa, died +and left her two thousand dollars. And she says she always wanted a +car, and now she’s going to have one. A different agent has been here +trying to sell her one every week. They took me last time.”</p> + +<p>In spite of her anxiety, Betty laughed at the picture she had of the +hard-working family leaving their cares and toil to go riding about +the country in a demonstrator’s car. She hoped that Grandma would +find a car to her liking, one whose springs would be kind to her +rheumatic bones, and that there would be enough left of the little +legacy to buy the valiant old lady some of the small luxuries she +liked.</p> + +<p>“Ki’s home,” volunteered the boy. “He’s working ’way out in the +cornfield. Want to see him? I’ll call him for you.”</p> + +<p>“No thanks,” said Betty, uncertain what to do next. “I don’t suppose +there’s a telephone at your house, is there?” she asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>The urchin shook his head quickly.</p> + +<p>“No, we ain’t got one,” he replied. “Was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>you wanting to use Mis’ +Watterby’s? It’s out of order. Been no good for two days. My ma had +to go to Flame City yesterday to telephone my dad.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to go to Flame City, too, I think,” decided Betty. “I hope +you’ll take the next automobile ride,” she added, mounting Clover.</p> + +<p>“Gee, Grandma Watterby says if they buy a car I can have all the +rides I want,” grinned the towhead engagingly. “You bet I hope they +buy!”</p> + +<p>All her worry about Bob shut down on Betty again as she urged the +horse toward the town. Suppose Uncle Dick were not within reach of +the telephone! Suppose he were off on a long inspection trip!</p> + +<p>Flame City had not improved, and though Betty could count her visits +to it on the fingers of one hand, she thought it looked more +unattractive than ever. The streets were dusty and not over clean, +and were blocked with trucks and mule teams on their way to the +fields with supplies. Here and there a slatternly woman idled at the +door of a shop, but for the most part men stood about in groups or +waited for trade in the dirty, dark little shops.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where the best place to telephone is,” said Betty to +herself, shrinking from pushing her way through any of the crowds +that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>seemed to surround every doorway. “I’ll ask them in the +post-office.”</p> + +<p>The post-office was a yellow-painted building that leaned for support +against a blue cigar store. Like the majority of shacks in the town, +it boasted of only one story, and a long counter, whittled with the +initials of those who had waited for their mail, was its chief +adornment.</p> + +<p>Betty hitched Clover outside and entered the door to find the +postmaster rapidly thumbing over a bunch of letters while a tall man +in a pepper-and-salt suit waited, his back to the room.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me where to find a public telephone?” asked Betty, and +at the sound of her voice, the man turned.</p> + +<p>“Betty!” he ejaculated. “My dear child, how glad I am to see you!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon took the package of mail the postmaster handed him and +thrust it into his coat pocket.</p> + +<p>“The old car is outside,” he assured his niece. “Let’s go out and +begin to get acquainted again.”</p> + +<p>Betty, beyond a radiant smile and a furtive hug, had said nothing, +and when Mr. Gordon saw her in the sunlight he scrutinized her +sharply.</p> + +<p>“Everything all right, Betty?” he demanded, keeping his voice low so +that the loungers should not overhear. “I’d rather you didn’t come +over to town like this. And where is Bob?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>“Oh, Uncle Dick!” The words came with a rush. “That’s why I’m here. +Bob has disappeared! We can’t find him anywhere, and I’m afraid those +awful men have carried him off.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon stared at her in astonishment. In a few words she managed +to outline for him her fears and what had taken place the day before. +Mr. Gordon had made up his mind as she talked.</p> + +<p>“We’ll leave Clover at the hotel stable. It won’t kill her for a few +hours,” he observed. “You and I can make better time in the car, +rickety as it is. Hop in, Betty, for we’re going to find Bob. Not a +doubt of it. It’s all over but the shouting.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>SELLING THE FARM</h3> + +<p>“Don’t you think those sharpers carried off Bob?” urged Betty, +bracing herself as the car dipped into a rut and out again.</p> + +<p>“Every indication of it,” agreed her uncle, swerving sharply to avoid +a delivery car.</p> + +<p>“But where could they have taken him?” speculated Betty, clinging to +the rim of the side door. “How will you know where to look?”</p> + +<p>“I think he is right on the farm,” answered Mr. Gordon. “In fact, I +shall be very much surprised if we have to go off the place to +discover him. I’m heading for the farm on that supposition.”</p> + +<p>“But, Uncle Dick,” Betty raised her voice, for the much-abused car +could not run silently, “I can’t see why they would carry Bob off, +anyway. Of course I know they don’t like him, and I do believe they +recognized him as the boy who sat behind them on the train, though +Bob laughs and says he isn’t so handsome that people remember his +face; but I don’t understand what good it would do them to kidnap +him. The aunts are too <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>poor to pay any money for him, that’s +certain.”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, Betty, I’m rather surprised at you,” Mr. Gordon teased +her. “For a bright girl, you seem to have been slow on this point. +What do these sharpers want of the aunts, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“The farm,” answered Betty promptly. “They know there is oil there +and they want to buy it for almost nothing and make their fortunes.”</p> + +<p>“At the expense of two innocent old ladies,” added Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p>“But, Uncle Dick, Bob doesn’t own the farm. Only his mother’s share. +And the aunts would be his guardians, he says, so his consent isn’t +necessary for a sale. You see, I do know a lot about business.” And +Betty glanced triumphantly at her uncle.</p> + +<p>He smiled good-humoredly, and let the car out another notch.</p> + +<p>“Has it ever occurred to you, my dear,” he said casually, “that, if +Bob were out of the way, the aunts might be persuaded to sell their +farm for an absurdly small sum? A convincing talker might make any +argument seem plausible, and neither Miss Hope nor Miss Charity are +business women. They are utterly unversed in business methods or +terms, and are the type of women who obediently sign any paper +without reading it. I intend to see that you grow up with a knowledge +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>of legal terms and forms that will at least protect you when you’re +placed in the position the Saunders women are.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Hope said once her father attended to everything for them,” +mused Betty, “and I suppose when he died they just had to guess. Oh!” +a sudden light seemed to break over her. “Oh, Uncle Dick! do you +suppose those men may be there now trying to get them to sell the +farm?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I don’t know that they were on the place when you left,” +said her uncle. “But allowing them half an hour to reach there, I am +reasonably certain that they are sitting in the parlor this minute, +talking to the aunts. I only hope they haven’t an agreement with +them, or, if they have, that the pen and ink is where Miss Hope can’t +put her hands on it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think there really is oil there?” asked Betty hurriedly, for +another turn would bring them in sight of the farm. “Can you tell for +sure, Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon regarded her whimsically.</p> + +<p>“Oil wells are seldom ‘sure,’” he replied cautiously. “But if I had +my doubts, they’d be clinched by what you tell me of these men. No +Easterner with a delicate daughter was ever so anxious to buy a +run-down place—not with a whole county to chose from. Also, as far +as I can tell, judging from the location, which is all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>I’ve had to +go by, I should say we were safe in saying there is oil sand there. +In fact, I’ve already taken it up with the company, Betty, and +they’re inclined to think this whole section may be a find.”</p> + +<p>Betty hardly waited for the automobile to stop before she was out and +up the front steps of the farmhouse, Mr. Gordon close behind her.</p> + +<p>“I hear voices in the parlor,” whispered Betty, “Oh, hurry!”</p> + +<p>“All cash, you see,” a voice that Betty recognized as Blosser’s was +saying persuasively. “Nothing to wait for, absolutely no delay.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon put a restraining hand on Betty’s arm, and motioned to her +to keep still.</p> + +<p>“But my sister and I should like to talk it over, for a day or so,” +quavered Miss Hope. “We’re upset because our nephew is missing, as we +have explained, and I don’t think we should decide hastily.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to hurry you,” struck in another voice, Fluss’s, Betty +was sure, “but I tell you frankly, Madam, a cash offer doesn’t +require consideration. All you have to do, you and your sister, is to +sign this paper, and we’ll count the money right into your hand. +Could anything be fairer?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a big offer, too,” said Blosser. “A run-down place like this +isn’t attractive, and you’re <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>likely to go years before you get +another bid. Our client wants to get his daughter out into this air, +and he has money to spend fixing up. I tell you what we’ll do—we’ll +pay this year’s taxes—include them in the sale price. Why, ladies, +you’ll have a thousand dollars in cash!”</p> + +<p>Betty could picture Miss Hope’s eyes at the thought of a thousand +dollars.</p> + +<p>“Well, Sister, perhaps we had better take it,” suggested Miss Charity +timidly. “We can do sewing or something like that, and that money +will put Bob through school.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, here’s where we put a spoke in the wheel,” whispered Mr. +Gordon, beckoning Betty to follow him and striding down the hall.</p> + +<p>“Why, Betty!” Miss Hope rose hastily and kissed her. “Sister and I +had begun to worry about you.”</p> + +<p>“This is my uncle, Mr. Gordon, Miss Hope,” said Betty. “I found him +in Flame City. Has Bob come back?”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope, much flustered by the presence of another stranger, said +that Bob had not returned, and presented Mr. Gordon to her sister.</p> + +<p>“These gentlemen, Mr. Snead and Mr. Elmer,”—she consulted the cards +in her hand—“have called to see us about selling our farm.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon nodded curtly to the pair whose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>faces were as black as a +thunder-cloud at the interruption.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure Mr. Gordon will excuse us if we go on with the business,” +said Blosser smoothly. “You have a dining-room, perhaps, or some +other room where we could finish this matter quietly?”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope glanced about her helplessly. Betty noticed that there was +pen and ink and a package of bills of large denomination on the +table. Evidently they had reached the farm just in time.</p> + +<p>“Why, it happens that I’m interested in a way in your farm, if it is +for sale,” announced Mr. Gordon leisurely.</p> + +<p>He selected a comfortable chair, and leaned back in it with the air +of a man who is not to be hurried. A look of relief came into Miss +Hope’s face, and her nervous tension perceptibly relaxed.</p> + +<p>“This farm <i>is</i> sold,” declared Blosser truculently. “My partner and +I have bought it for a client of ours.”</p> + +<p>“Any signatures passed?” said Mr. Gordon lazily.</p> + +<p>“Miss Hope will sign right here,” said Blosser, hastily unfolding a +sheet of foolscap. “She was about to do so when you came in.”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope automatically took up the pen.</p> + +<p>“Have you read that agreement?” demanded Mr. Gordon sharply. “Do you +know what you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>are signing? I’d like to know the purchase price. I’m +representing Bob’s interest.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Bob!” Miss Hope and Miss Charity both turned from the paper +toward the speaker. “We think the money will put Bob through +school—a whole thousand dollars, Mr. Gordon, and the taxes paid. We +can’t run the farm any longer. We can’t afford to hire help.”</p> + +<p>“No farm is sold without a little more trouble than this,” announced +Mr. Gordon pleasantly. “You don’t mind If I ask you a few questions?”</p> + +<p>“We’re in a hurry,” broke in Fluss. “Sign this, ladies, and my +partner and I will pay you the cash and get on to the next town. You +can answer this gentleman’s questions after we’re gone.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there is a mortgage?” asked Mr. Gordon, ignoring Fluss +altogether.</p> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars,” answered Miss Hope. “We had to give a +mortgage to get along after Father died.”</p> + +<p>“So they’ve offered you fifteen hundred dollars for an oil farm,” +said Mr. Gordon contemptuously. “Well, don’t take it.”</p> + +<p>“Bob said there was oil here!” cried Miss Charity.</p> + +<p>“That’s a lie!” snarled Blosser furiously. “You’re out of the oil +section by a good many miles. Are you going to turn down a cash offer +for this forsaken dump, simply because a stranger <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>happens along and +tells you there may be oil on it? Bah!”</p> + +<p>“Keep your temper,” counseled Fluss in a low tone. “Well, rather than +see two ladies lose a sale,” he said with forced cheerfulness, “we +will make you an offer of three thousand dollars. Money talks louder +than fair words.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you five thousand, cash,” Mr. Gordon spoke quietly, but +Betty bounced about on the sofa in delight.</p> + +<p>Fluss leaped to his feet and brought his fist smashing down on the +table.</p> + +<p>“Six thousand!” he cried fiercely. “We’re buying this farm. We’ll +give you six thousand dollars, ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Seven thousand,” said Mr. Gordon conversationally. He did not shift +his position, but his keen eyes followed every movement of the +rascally pair. He said afterward that he was afraid of gun play.</p> + +<p>“Oh—oh, my goodness!” stammered Miss Hope. “I can’t seem to think.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to, Madam,” Fluss assured her, his immaculate gray +tie under one ear and his clothing rumpled from the heat and +excitement. “Sell us your farm. We’ll give you ten thousand dollars. +That’s the last word. Ten thousand for this mud hole. Here’s a +pen—sign this!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>“Drop that pen!” thundered Mr. Gordon, and Miss Hope let it fall as +though it had burned her fingers. “I’ll give you fifteen thousand +dollars,” he said more gently.</p> + +<p>Fluss looked at Blosser who nodded.</p> + +<p>“Seventeen thousand,” he shrieked, as though the sisters were deaf. +“Seventeen I tell you, seventeen thousand!”</p> + +<p>“Twenty,” said Mr. Gordon cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Miss Charity suddenly found her voice.</p> + +<p>“I think we’d better sell to Mr. Gordon,” she announced quietly.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>UNCLE DICK’S BUYER</h3> + +<p>Miss Hope, who had been wringing her hands, bewildered and hopelessly +at sea, hailed this concrete suggestion with visible relief.</p> + +<p>“All right, Sister, I think so, too,” she agreed, glad for once not +to have to make the decision. “You’re sure you are not cheating +yourself, Mr. Gordon, by paying us twenty thousand dollars?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon, who had strolled over to the door leading into the hall, +assured her that he was well-satisfied with his bargain.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll be going,” muttered Blosser. “All this comes from trying +to do business with women. You had as good as passed us your word +that you’d sell to us, and see what’s happened. However, women don’t +know nothing about ethics. Come on, Fluss.”</p> + +<p>He was too disappointed and angry to notice the slip of his tongue, +but Fluss flushed a brick red.</p> + +<p>“Just one minute,” said Mr. Richard Gordon, blocking the doorway. +“You don’t leave this place until you promise to produce that boy.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>Blosser feigned ignorance, but the attempt deceived no one.</p> + +<p>“What boy?” he blustered. “You seem bent on stirring up trouble, +Stranger.”</p> + +<p>“You know very well what boy,” retorted Mr. Gordon evenly. “You’ll +stir up something more than mere trouble if he isn’t brought here +within a few minutes, or information given where we may find him. +Where is Bob Henderson?”</p> + +<p>“Here, sir!” a blithe voice announced, and the door leading into a +communicating room was jerked open.</p> + +<p>Bob, his clothing a bit the worse for wear, but apparently sound and +whole, stood there, brandishing a stout club.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Bob!” Betty’s cry quite drowned the exclamation of the aunts, +but Bob had no eye for any one but Blosser and Fluss, who were making +a wild attempt to get past Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p>“Have they bought the farm?” demanded the boy excitedly. “Did they +get my aunts to sign anything for them?”</p> + +<p>“I’m your new landlord, Bob,” announced Mr. Gordon, patting himself +on the chest. “Don’t think you can put me off when the rent comes +due.”</p> + +<p>“So that’s all right,” said Bob, with manifest relief. “As for those +two scamps, who nearly choked me, well, let me get at them once.”</p> + +<p>Whirling his club he charged upon the pair who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>squealed in terror +and tore past Mr. Gordon, down the hall and out into the yard, Bob in +pursuit. Miss Hope and Miss Charity ran to the windows, and Betty and +her uncle watched from the porch (Betty was going to follow Bob as a +matter of course, but Mr. Gordon held her back) as the boy continued +the chase. Fluss and Blosser presented a ludicrous sight as they ran +heavily, their coats flapping in the wind and their hats jammed low +over their eyes. Bob did not try to catch up with them, but contented +himself with shouting loudly and swishing his heavy club through the +air, while he kept just close enough to their heels to warn them that +it was not safe to slacken speed. In a few minutes the watchers saw +him coming back, walking, a broad grin on his face.</p> + +<p>“Good little Marathon, wasn’t it?” he called from the road. “Did you +hear me yelling like an Indian? I chased them as far as the boundary +line, and when I saw them they were still running. Gee, Mr. Gordon, I +mean Uncle Dick, you got back from the oil fields just in time.”</p> + +<p>He came up on the steps and shook hands with Mr. Gordon, and +submitted to a hug from each aunt.</p> + +<p>“Have you really bought the farm?” he asked curiously. “Or was that +just a blind?”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope and Miss Charity looked anxiously <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>at Mr. Gordon. They had +planned exactly what to do with that twenty thousand dollars.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t signed an agreement,” admitted the successful bidder, +“but the farm is sold, all right. I’ll give this check to Miss Hope +now—” he hastily filled out a blank slip from his book—“as an +evidence of good faith. Then I want to hear Bob’s tale, and then I +must do a bit of telephoning. And to-morrow morning, good people, I +promise you the surprise of your lives.”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope glanced at the check he gave her, gasped, and opened her +mouth to speak.</p> + +<p>“Sh!” warned Mr. Gordon. “Dear lady, I’ve set my heart on staging a +little climax; don’t spoil it. To-morrow morning at eleven o’clock +we’ll have all the explanations. Now, Bob, what happened to you? I +hear you nearly frightened your aunts into hysterics, to say nothing +of Betty, whom I found tearing around Flame City hunting for a +telephone.”</p> + +<p>Bob was in a fever of curiosity to know about the farm, whether Mr. +Gordon thought there was a good prospect of oil or not, but Uncle +Dick was not the kind of man to have his decisions debated. Bob +wisely concluded to wait with what patience he could until the proper +time. He turned to Betty.</p> + +<p>“You know when we separated to hunt for Daisy?” he said. “Well, I +went through the first <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>field all right, but when I was passing those +two old apple trees that have grown together, Fluss and Blosser +jumped out and one of ’em threw a coat over my head so I couldn’t +shout. They downed me, and then Fluss stuffed his handkerchief in my +mouth while Blosser tied my hands and feet. Daisy was behind the +tree. I figured out they had come and got her, and I was mighty glad +we had agreed to separate. I don’t doubt they would have bound and +gagged you, too, Betty, if you had been with me. They wouldn’t stop +at anything.</p> + +<p>“They carried me to the barn loft——” Betty jumped a little. “Yes, I +was up there when you were milking. Awfully hot up there in the hay +it was, too. They were hiding near us when we planned to drop the bar +as a signal, and I heard them laughing over that trick half the +night. They slept up there with me—I was nearly dead for a drink of +water—and once during the night Fluss did go down to the pump and +bring me a drink, standing over me with that big club in case I +should cry out when they took out the gag.</p> + +<p>“This morning they watched and saw you ride off on Clover. They were +in a panic for fear you would come back with some one before they +could persuade the aunts to sell. I wish you could have seen them +brushing each other off and shining their shoes on a horse blanket. +They wanted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>to look stylish and as though they had just come from +town instead of sleeping in a hayloft all night.”</p> + +<p>“They said they had stayed in Flame City over night,” said Miss Hope +indignantly. “The idea!”</p> + +<p>“They had several,” grinned Bob. “I certainly put in an anxious hour +up there after they had gone down the ladder. You see, I didn’t know +Betty was going for Uncle Dick, and I didn’t know that any one else +would say there was oil on the place. Fluss had a roll of bills as +big as your arm, and I pictured him flashing that and Aunt Hope so +anxious to send me to school that she wouldn’t leave a margin for +herself and Aunt Charity to live on. If I had known that Uncle Dick +was coming, I’d have saved myself a heap of worry.”</p> + +<p>“If I had had to telephone to him, it would have been too late,” said +Betty. “I just happened to find him in the post-office; didn’t I, +Uncle Dick?”</p> + +<p>“I’d just got back from the fields and was after mail,” Mr. Gordon +explained. “I meant to stop and get directions from the Watterbys how +to find the Saunders farm. Well, as it happened, everything was +planned for the best.”</p> + +<p>“How did you get down from the loft, Bob?” Betty asked curiously.</p> + +<p>“Cut the string that tied my wrists on a rusty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>scythe I found as I +was crawling over the floor,” said Bob. “Then, of course, I could +pull out that nasty gag and untie my feet. I was a bit stiff at +first, and I guess I fell down the hayloft ladder, but I was in such +a hurry I’m not sure. The sharpers had left their club, and I brought +that along for good luck. And, Aunt Hope, I’m starving to death!”</p> + +<p>“Bless your heart, of course you are!” And Miss Hope hurried out to +the kitchen, tucking Mr. Gordon’s check into her apron pocket as she +went. “I’ll stir up some waffles, I think,” she murmured, reaching +for the egg bowl.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon would not stay for dinner, for he was anxious, he said, to +get to a telephone. He would spend the night with the Watterbys and +be back the next morning with “an important some one.”</p> + +<p>“I’m so excited I can’t walk straight,” declared Betty, skipping +between table and stove in an effort to help Aunt Hope with the +dinner. “Goodness, it seems forever till to-morrow morning!”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope and Miss Charity went about the rest of the day in a daze, +and Bob and Betty, who could not settle down to any task, went out to +the barn and enacted the scene of Bob’s imprisonment all over again.</p> + +<p>They were up at daybreak the next morning, and Miss Hope insisted on +dusting and sweeping <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>the whole house, though, as Bob said, it was +hardly likely that their visitors would insist on seeing the attic.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t the house Mr. Gordon is interested in,” the boy maintained +sagaciously. “There’s oil here, Aunt Hope,” and this time Miss Hope +did not contradict him.</p> + +<p>At ten minutes to eleven Mr. Gordon drove up with a small, +sandy-haired man who wore large horn-rimmed spectacles. He was +introduced to Miss Hope and her sister as Mr. Lindley Vernet, and +then the four went into the parlor and closed the door.</p> + +<p>“Children not wanted,” said Mr. Gordon, grinning over his shoulder at +Bob and Betty, left sitting on the porch.</p> + +<p>“Children!” snorted Betty, shaking an indignant fist in pretended +anger. “If it hadn’t been for us, or rather for you, Bob, this farm +would have been sold for next to nothing.”</p> + +<p>“If it hadn’t been for you, you mean,” retorted Bob. “Who was it went +and brought back Uncle Dick? I might have shouted myself hoarse, but +those rascals would have beaten me somehow. Do you suppose this Mr. +Vernet is going to buy the place?”</p> + +<p>“I think he is the head of Uncle Dick’s firm,” said Betty cautiously. +“At least I’ve heard him speak of a Lindley Vernet. But I thought +Uncle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Dick offered a lot of money, didn’t you, Bob? How many acres +are there?”</p> + +<p>“Ninety,” announced Bob briefly. “What’s that? The door opened, so +they must be through. No, it’s only Aunt Charity.”</p> + +<p>But such a transformed Miss Charity! Her gentle dark eyes were +shining, her cheeks were faintly pink, and she smiled at Betty and +Bob as though something wonderful had happened.</p> + +<p>“I came out to tell you,” she said mysteriously, sitting down on the +top step between them and putting an arm around each. “The farm is +sold, my darlings. Can you guess for how much?”</p> + +<p>“More than twenty thousand?” asked Betty. “Oh—twenty-five?”</p> + +<p>“Thirty?” hazarded Bob, seeing that Betty had not guessed it.</p> + +<p>Miss Charity laughed excitedly and hugged them with all her frail +strength.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Vernet is going to pay us ninety thousand dollars!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>HAPPY DAYS</h3> + +<p>“Ninety thousand dollars!” repeated Bob incredulously. “Why, that is +a thousand dollars an acre!”</p> + +<p>“He is sure they will drill many paying wells,” said Miss Charity. +“To think that this fortune should come in our old age! You can go to +school and college, Bob, and Sister and I will never be a burden on +you. Isn’t it just wonderful!”</p> + +<p>She went off into a happy little day-dream, and presently the +conference broke up, and Miss Hope and the two men came out on the +porch. Mr. Vernet proved to be a jolly kind of person, intensely +interested in oil and oil prospects, and evidently completely +satisfied with his purchase.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the young man I have to thank,” he commented, shaking hands +with Bob. “If those sharpers had got hold of the place, they would +have forced me to buy at more than a fair risk, or else sold the land +in small holdings and we should have had that abomination, close +drilling. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>I’m grateful to you, my lad, for outwitting those slick +schemers.”</p> + +<p>Miss Hope persuaded the two men to stay to dinner, and she and Miss +Charity fairly outdid themselves in their cooking. Afterward Mr. +Gordon took Mr. Vernet back to the oil fields, depositing in the +Flame City bank for Miss Hope the check for twenty-five thousand +dollars he had given her the day before, and the larger check she had +received that morning.</p> + +<p>“We’re rich, Sister, rich!” said Miss Charity, drying the dinner +dishes and so overcome that she dropped a china cup which crashed +into tiny pieces on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t break all the dishes,” advised Miss Hope, with dry +practicality. “You can’t buy a pretty cup in Flame City if you are a +millionaire.”</p> + +<p>Bob’s head was full of plans for his education, and in the days that +followed he often spoke of his future. Mr. Gordon listened and +advised him frequently, and Bob grew fonder of him all the time.</p> + +<p>Clover was brought back from the Flame City stable where Betty had +left her, and they resumed their riding, Mr. Gordon hiring a horse +and often accompanying them.</p> + +<p>“You know, the aunts have never seen the oil fields,” said Betty one +day, as they were slowly riding home from the fields where they had +seen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>the largest new well in operation for the first time. “Don’t +you think they would be interested, especially as their own farm will +be an oil field next year?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll take them on a sightseeing trip,” promised Mr. Gordon +instantly. “If I can get a comfortable car, I’ll come for you all +to-morrow morning. They’ll enjoy having dinner at the bunk house, and +we’ll show them the workings of the whole place. Imagine a person who +has lived in this oil country and hasn’t seen a well!”</p> + +<p>The program was carried out, and the Misses Saunders thoroughly +enjoyed the long day spent among the wells. They thought the +machinery wonderful, as indeed it was, and marveled at the miles of +pipe line.</p> + +<p>Grandma Watterby, as might be expected, was delighted with the turn +of events, and Betty and Bob spent a day with her, telling her all +that had happened.</p> + +<p>“It’s better than a book,” she sighed contentedly. “If Emma would +only go around more, I’m sure she could find interesting things to +tell me. ’Fore I was crippled with rheumatism, I used to know all +that was goin’ on.”</p> + +<p>The Watterbys had bought a car, and Bob was eager for his aunts to +have one. They preferred to wait until it was decided where they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>were to spend the winter, and in this Mr. Gordon concurred. He had +been made, at the request of the two old ladies and backed by the old +country lawyer who had known their father, the guardian of Bob, who +would not inherit his share of the ninety thousand dollars, of +course, until he was twenty-one. Bob himself was very much pleased to +be a ward of Betty’s uncle, feeling that now he “really belonged,” as +he happily said.</p> + +<p>“Who do you suppose this is from?” asked Betty, waving a letter at +Bob one morning not long after their visit to the oil fields with the +aunts. “You’ll never guess!”</p> + +<p>Bob looked up from his book. He was luxuriously stretched under a +tree, reading.</p> + +<p>“From Bobby Littell?” he ventured.</p> + +<p>“Bob Henderson, can you read the postmark from where you are?” Betty +looked disappointed for a moment. “Oh, well, I might have known you +would have guessed it. It is from Bobby. Want to hear a little bit?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind,” conceded Bob graciously, keeping a finger in his +book.</p> + +<p>“She says they’ve been to Atlantic City for a month,” explained +Betty. “That is, Bobby, Esther, Louise and Mrs. Littell. Mr. Littell +could spend only a week with them. And now the girls are going to +boarding school. Listen.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>“‘Louise and I are going away to school this fall, and +though Esther is crazy to go, too, Dad says he must have +one of us at home, so I think she will have to wait a year +or two. Louise and I have been to Miss Graham’s for three +years, and I don’t see why it isn’t good enough for Esther +till she is as old as we are. But you know she always wants +to do everything we do. Oh, Betty, wouldn’t it be too +lovely for words if you should come to boarding school with +us? Please ask your uncle, do. You can’t spend the winter +in Oklahoma, can you? And if you are going to school I know +you would like the one we’re going to. It is so highly +recommended, and Mother personally knows the principal. I +tell you—I’ll see that a catalogue is sent to you, and you +show it to your uncle. Libbie thinks maybe she will go.’</p></div> + +<p>“And she winds up by saying that her father and mother send their +love, and they all want to know how you are and if you found your +aunts,” concluded Betty, folding the letter. “I must write to Bobby +and tell her your good luck.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to go to boarding school?” asked Bob. “Where is this +place she’s so crazy about—in Washington?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know just where, but I don’t think it is very near +Washington,” answered Betty carelessly. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>“Of course I’d love to go to +boarding school. Do you suppose Uncle Dick would be willing?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon, when consulted, promised to “think it over,” and as Betty +knew that none of his plans for the next few weeks were definitely +settled and that the Littell girls would not go off to school before +the middle of October, she was content to wait.</p> + +<p>“Your education and Bob’s are matters for serious thought,” he told +them more than once. “In some ways I think you are further advanced +than most girls and boys of your age, but in other branches you will +have to work hard to make up, Bob especially, for rather desultory +training. I’ll have a long talk with you both just as soon as I get +some business matters straightened out.”</p> + +<p>So Bob and Betty put the school question aside for serious +discussion, and proceeded to enjoy the days that followed. If any one +is interested to know whether Betty did go to boarding school with +the Littell girls and how Bob went about getting the education so +long unfairly denied him, the answer may be found in the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10317">next volume</a> +of this series.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon was still obliged to be away for several days at a time, +and Betty and Bob continued to stay with Bob’s aunts. They made very +little change in their mode of living, Miss Hope <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>remarking that she +“never was one to spend money; she liked to know it was in the bank, +in case of need, but the older I get, the less I want.” As for help, +there was none to be had for any amount of money, so Bob took care of +the live stock till it should be sold. The oil company was to take +over the farm the first of October.</p> + +<p>“What a perfectly grand time we have had after all,” remarked Betty +to Bob one day, after a ride into the country.</p> + +<p>“Yes, everything seems to be coming our way,” said the boy, with +satisfaction. “Gee, I never dreamed I’d be so rich!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll be richer some day, Bob. And wiser, too. Now you’ve got +the chance for an education I hope to see you a great lawyer or a +doctor or an engineer—or something or other like that,” and Betty +gazed at him hopefully.</p> + +<p>“All right, Betty,” he answered promptly. “If you say so, it goes—so +there!”</p> + +<p>And here let us leave Betty Gordon and say good-bye.</p> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox2"> +<h2>THE BETTY GORDON SERIES</h2> + +<hr class="small" /> +<p class="center">BY ALICE B. EMERSON</p> +<hr class="small" /> + +<p class="center"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p> + +<p class="center"><b><i>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</i></b></p> + +<div class="centered"><table border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="0" summary="adpage2"> +<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/z221.jpg" width="100" height="130" alt="" title="" /> +</div></td> + +<td><p> +<b>1. BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE<br /> +FARM</b> <i>or The Mystery of a Nobody</i><br /> +<br /> +At twelve Betty is left an orphan.<br /> +<br /> +<b>2. BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON</b><br /> +<i> or Strange Adventures in a Great City</i></p></td></tr></table></div> + +<p>Betty goes to the National Capitol to find +her uncle and has several unusual adventures.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>3. BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune</i></p> + +<p>From Washington the scene is shifted to the great oil fields of +our country. A splendid picture of the oil field operations of to-day.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>4. BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or The Treasure of Indian Chasm</i></p> + +<p>Seeking treasures of Indian Chasm makes interesting reading.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>5. BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne</i></p> + +<p>At Mountain Camp Betty found herself in the midst of a mystery +involving a girl whom she had previously met in Washington.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>6. BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or School Chums on the Boardwalk</i></p> + +<p>A glorious outing that Betty and her chums never forgot.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>7. BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or Bringing the Rebels to Terms</i></p> + +<p>Rebellious students, disliked teachers and mysterious robberies +make a fascinating story.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>8. BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or Cowboy Joe’s Secret</i></p> + +<p>Betty and her chums have a grand time in the saddle.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>9. BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or The Secret of the Mountains</i></p> + +<p>Betty receives a fake telegram and finds both Bob and herself held +for ransom in a mountain cave.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><b>10. BETTY GORDON AND THE LOST PEARL</b></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>or A Mystery of the Seaside</i></p> + +<p>Betty and her chums go to the ocean shore for a vacation and +there Betty becomes involved in the disappearance of a string of +pearls worth a fortune.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p><b>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers</b> <b>New York</b></p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox2"> +<h2>THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES</h2> + +<hr class="small" /> +<p class="center">BY ALICE B. EMERSON</p> +<hr class="small" /> + +<div class="centered"><table border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="0" summary="adpage2"> +<tr><td style="vertical-align: top;"><div class="figleft" style="width: 99px;"> +<img src="images/z222.jpg" width="99" height="130" alt="" title="" /> +</div></td> + +<td align="center"><p><i>12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i></p> + +<p><b><i>Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid</i></b></p> + +<p>Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to live with her miserly uncle. +Her adventures and travels make stories that will hold the interest +of every reader.</p></td></tr></table></div> + +<p>Ruth Fielding is a character that will live in juvenile fiction.</p> + +<div class="center"><table border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="1" summary="adpage2bottom"> + +<tr><td align="right"><b>1.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>2.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>3.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>4.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>5.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>6.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>7.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>8.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>9.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>10.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>11.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>12.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>13.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>14.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>15.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>16.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>17.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>18.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>19.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>20.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>21.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>22.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><b>23.</b></td><td align="left"><b>RUTH FIELDING AND HER GREAT SCENARIO</b></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="center"><b>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers</b> <b>New York</b></p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h2> + +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetter errors; +otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s +words and intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Betty Gordon in the Land of Oil, by +Alice B. 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