"I don't see any light around the place," announced Jack, as they drew closer.

"I wonder what became of Nappy and Slugger?" broke in Fred. "I don't see them anywhere."

"Suppose we call them," suggested Andy.

"Let us walk around the house first," returned his twin. "They may have gone in by the back way. Most of the folks living around here use the back door for everything."

With added caution the Rover boys walked slowly around one side of the building. In the rear they found everything as dark and deserted as in the front.

"This is certainly strange," announced Jack. He advanced and knocked sharply on the closed door.

There was no reply, and he knocked a second time. Then Randy beat upon the door with his stick.

"It looks to me as if there wasn't a soul in the place," announced Andy. "I wonder what has become of Nappy and Slugger?"

"See here, will you?" cried Fred suddenly. "It looks to me as if nobody lived here. Every one of the windows is boarded up on the inside. I believe this house is being used for nothing but a storehouse. I don't believe a soul lives here."

"Hello, Nappy! Hello, Slugger!" called out Jack loudly. "Where are you?"

To this call there was no reply.



CHAPTER XXIV

DICK ROVER'S REVELATION

"We've been tricked!" exclaimed Randy.

"Just what I think!" burst out Fred. "They didn't bring us here to see Gabe Werner at all!"

"There isn't a soul around the building, that's certain," remarked Andy. "What do you suppose has become of Nappy and Slugger?"

The Rovers looked around in the fast-gathering darkness, but could see no one. Then they walked around the building several times, peering in all directions for a sight of the fellows who had brought them on this strange mission.

"It's a storehouse, right enough," announced Jack. "And my opinion is that everything is nailed up except the front door, and that, as you can see, has a padlock on it."

It was certainly a mystery, and for the time being the Rover boys were unable to solve it. Looking down on the ground, they saw a number of footprints, but it was now too dark to follow any of these.

"Wish we had brought a pocket flashlight along," remarked Fred.

"It's getting as dark as a stack of black cats," said Andy.

"Yes, and we had better be getting back to town before it gets so dark we lose our way," returned Jack.

As it was, they had some difficulty in finding the path down to the road. Then they stumbled along in the darkness, occasionally heading into some mud hole up to their ankles.

"Nappy and Slugger certainly have the laugh on us for this," said Fred, as they plowed along. "Maybe they thought we would lose our way completely in this darkness."

It was a good half-hour before the Rovers reached the outskirts of Columbina. At a great distance they could see many twinkling electric lights, one of which hung on the top of every oil derrick. But these were so far off they did nothing towards illuminating the way.

"Almost ten o'clock," announced Jack, consulting his watch. "About all we can do is to clean the mud from our shoes and go to bed."

There was a sleepy young clerk behind the counter of the hotel, and he showed them where they could clean up.

"No bootblacks in Columbina," said Randy, with a grin. And then all set to work with a whisk broom and brushes to clean up.

"I wonder if Uncle Dick will get in to-night," remarked Fred. The last train to stop at Columbina was due in fifteen minutes.

"I think I'll stay up and find out," said Jack.

"You waiting for Mr. Rover?" demanded the boy behind the counter, as he yawned and stretched himself. "If you are, he came in a couple of hours ago."

"Is that so!" cried Jack, in surprise. "Where is he now?"

"I think he's up in his room, although I'm not sure. You see, I was out to a dance last night, and I'm pretty tired, and I fell asleep a couple of times sitting here doing nothing. Somehow or other, it seems to be an off night around this hotel. Nothing doing at all," and the sleepy clerk yawned again.

"Maybe he's up in his room looking over those papers he brought," suggested Randy. "Come on up and see."

All mounted the stairs to the third floor of the hotel. When they reached the room occupied by Dick Rover they found the door locked, and a rap upon it brought no response.

"He isn't here, that's sure," said Jack. "Maybe he went out on an errand."

"Unless he's in our room," said Fred. In the larger apartment which the four boys occupied there was a small table, and Jack's father had several times come in to use this for writing purposes.

Jack had one of the keys to the room, and, stepping across the hallway, he attempted to insert this in the lock. Much to his surprise, the key would not go into the keyhole.

"That is strange——" he began, and then tried the door, to find it unlocked. Another key was on the inside.

The room was pitch dark, only a dim lamp being lighted in the rear of the long hallway. Jack stepped forward to get a match from a bureau, and as he did so he stumbled over something on the floor and pitched headlong.

"Oh!" he gasped, and then gave a sudden shudder, for he had felt the body of someone beside him. "Be careful," he went on. "Make a light, quick! Here is someone on the floor! I'm afraid it's dad!"

The others piled into the room, and Randy, who happened to have some matches in his pocket, struck a light and lit the lamp.

There, on the floor of the bedroom, lay Dick Rover. There was a small cut on his left temple from which the blood was flowing. He was breathing heavily, and evidently trying to speak.

"Dad! Dad! what happened to you?" cried Jack hoarsely, as he bent over and raised his parent up.

"He's been hurt!" exclaimed Fred. "See the cut on his forehead. Wait—I'll get some water."

He made a dash for the pitcher and also for a towel, and while Jack supported his father on his arm the others bathed Dick Rover's face and washed away the trickling blood.

"He's been hit," declared Randy. "See the lump on the back of his head," and he pointed it out.

Presently Dick Rover opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the anxious lads.

"What—what—what happened to me?" he stammered and gave a gasp. "Who—who knocked me down?"

"That we don't know, Dad," answered Jack, and he was glad to realize that his parent was coming to his senses. "Gee! I was afraid you had been killed."

The four boys raised Dick Rover up and laid him on one of the cots. They had a little first-aid kit with them, and from this they got some plaster with which they bound up the small cut.

It was some time before Dick Rover felt able to tell his story. In the meanwhile Fred dashed downstairs for some hot water, which was applied to the lump on the sufferer's head.

"I guess I'll get over it," said Jack's father, with a wan smile. "But they certainly did give it to me." Then he gave a sudden start. "What about my papers? Are they safe?"

The boys looked around, but saw no papers of any kind in the room.

"I had them in my bag. I brought them in here to look them over, and to do some writing at the table."

"Well, there's no bag here now, or papers either," announced Randy.

"Then those rascals must have taken them! That was probably why they knocked me down. They wanted to rob me."

"But who attacked you, Dad?" questioned Jack.

"That I don't know, Son. I was seated at the table with the open bag beside me, and was looking over some of the documents I had brought from the safe deposit vault in Wichita Falls when I heard a noise behind me near the door. I was just about to get up to see what it meant, when all of a sudden I received a terrible crack on the back of the head. I turned around, and then somebody aimed another blow at me that caught me on the left temple. Then everything seemed to dance before my eyes, and I guess I must have gone down in a heap on the floor. And that's all I knew until I found you supporting me and bathing my forehead."

"It must have been those oil-well fellows!" ejaculated Fred.

"I think I see a light!" almost shouted Jack. "Nappy and Slugger were in this plot. They made us go away out of town just so we wouldn't be here with my dad when the other fellows attacked him!"

"I guess you're right," answered Randy.

"What's this you are saying?" questioned Dick Rover, rather feebly.

In a few words the boys explained the trick Nappy Martell and Slugger Brown had played on them.

"Yes, I guess you are right. It must have been a part of the game," said Jack's father. "And are you sure my bag and everything that was in it are gone?"

"Yes, there isn't a single paper in this room," answered Jack. "And when we came up we found the door to your room locked, so it isn't likely they are there."

"They must have dug out the minute they knocked me over and got the papers," answered Dick Rover. "Probably they were afraid you or somebody else might come up and catch them at their dastardly work. As it is, it is queer somebody didn't see them."

"There happens to be no one down in the office but the young clerk, and he's half asleep," answered Randy. "Besides that, those fellows may have come in by the back way. Did you catch sight of them at all?"

"I can't say that I did, Randy. The first blow dazed me, and while I remember something of two or three forms, it is all so vague that it amounts to nothing. I rather think, however, that there were at least three men."

"And if there were, I'll bet a new hat those men were Davenport, Tate, and Jackson," returned Jack firmly.

"You may be right, Son. But you know what they say in court: It is one thing to know the truth, and quite another to be able to prove it."

"But who would want to steal those papers if not Davenport and his crowd?" questioned Randy. And then he added hurriedly: "Did they rob you of anything else, Uncle Dick?"

"I don't think so." Dick Rover felt in his pockets. "No, my money and watch and my diamond ring are all safe. If they had been ordinary thieves they would certainly have taken everything of value."

"Our baggage doesn't seem to be disturbed," said Andy, who was looking around. "I guess you are right—they were after those documents and nothing else."

There was a pause, and suddenly the boys saw a queer smile pass over Dick Rover's face, and then he uttered a peculiar whistle.

"What is it, Dad?" said Jack wonderingly. He knew that his father had a habit of whistling in that fashion when something struck him as funny.

"I was just thinking that perhaps those fellows who robbed me had taken a white elephant off my hands," returned Dick Rover.

"Why, what do you mean by white elephant?" questioned Andy.

"I mean that maybe they are fighting tooth and nail to get possession of something which I might be only too glad to give them for nothing."

"Oh, Dad, are you talking about the Lorimer Spell claim?" questioned Jack.

"Yes."

"But I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. But maybe you will after I've told my story. As you know, I went to Wichita Falls mainly to get the documents which Lorimer Spell had stored away in the safe deposit vault of a bank there. Well, I got the documents, and in looking them over found that while Lorimer Spell's claim to the land seemed to be fairly well established, still there was something of a cloud to the title—the cloud of which Carson Davenport and his crowd are taking advantage. But more than that, I found that a firm of oil experts named Fitch and Lunberry had gone over the property both for Spell and for an oil promoter who had thought to put some money into operations there. So then I called on the firm and had a long talk with Mr. Fitch."

"And what did Mr. Fitch have to say about the land?" asked Jack quickly.

"He was very frank to say that in his opinion there was no oil of any kind on the claim. He told me that he knew Lorimer Spell very well, and that while Spell was all right in the main, he had been daffy on the subject of oil, so much so that it had just about turned the poor fellow's brain until he imagined that there was fabulous wealth in oil on every acre he possessed. Mr. Fitch got down to facts and figures, and showed me all of his deductions, and he said that it was his honest opinion that any money spent on the Lorimer Spell claim would be utterly wasted."



CHAPTER XXV

DAVENPORT'S ACCUSATION

"Then the Lorimer Spell claim is positively no good!" exclaimed Jack.

"I wouldn't say that exactly, Jack. No claim down here can be said to be worthless until it has actually been bored for oil. It is just possible that those oil experts may be mistaken. At the same time, from what Mr. Fitch said, I would be very slow about putting money in that land."

"It's too bad, Uncle Dick, if that claim's no good when we all supposed it would be so wonderful," came from Fred, and his face showed his disappointment.

"Well, I haven't lost anything," answered his Uncle Dick. "I feel a great deal better than if I had sunk thirty or forty thousand dollars in a dry hole."

Andy began to snicker.

"Gee! it's rich, Uncle Dick, to pass Davenport and that crowd the white elephant," he chuckled. "I only hope they get bit bad, especially if they were the rascals who came here and knocked you out."

"They must have been the crowd, because no one else would be interested in those documents. They knew I was going to Wichita Falls to get them, and they probably hung around waiting for my return. And they probably got Martell and Brown to get you boys out of the way. The story about Gabe Werner having a broken leg was probably faked up."

"Nappy admitted that he and Slugger expected to work for the Davenport crowd," said Jack. "They are all tarred with the same stick, and I hope they get stuck bad."

"Uncle Dick, why don't you pretend to be terribly put out over the fact that you have lost your interest in the claim?" cried Andy. "That will throw them completely off the track. Let them imagine that you think there is a lot of oil to be found there."

"I'll think it over and at the same time I'll think over what other investments I might make while I'm down here. But just at present I think I'll try to get a good night's sleep and reduce this swelling on my head," added Jack's father, as he felt of the bump tenderly.

"I know one person who would like you to interest yourself in his claim!" exclaimed Jack. "That is Mr. John Franklin, the man we saved from drowning in the Rick Rack River freshet."

Thereupon the boys told of their meeting with Mr. Franklin and Phil, and also related what particulars they knew concerning the man's land and how he had gotten it out of the clutches of the oil sharpers.

"That might be worth looking into," said Dick Rover. "I'll take it up a little later, after I feel better, and after I have had it out with Davenport and his crowd."

The boys assisted Jack's father to his room and Jack aided him in retiring. Meanwhile Randy went down to interview the sleepy hotel clerk.

"That fellow doesn't know a thing about what happened," announced Randy on his return. "Those men must have come in and gone out while he was taking a snooze. And as luck would have it for those rascals, no one else seems to have been around."

With nothing of special importance to do, the whole crowd slept late on the following morning, which was Sunday. Dick Rover was glad to take it easy, but declined to have a physician when that was suggested.

"It was only an ordinary blow, and did nothing more than knock me out for a little while," said he. "The swelling on my head is gradually going down, and that little cut on the temple doesn't amount to much."

"Those men ought all to be put in prison!" burst out Fred.

"Possibly you are right, Fred. But you must remember that you are now in a section of the country where living is rather rough. A new oil town and a new mining camp are pretty much on the same level. You often have to take the law into your own hands and fight your way through the best you can. Later there will be regular law and order, and then matters will run more smoothly."

Dick Rover did not mention the matter to the boys, but from that day on he went armed, resolved to take no more chances should any of the oil land swindlers attack him again.

Two more days passed, and during that time the boys visited a number of localities in that vicinity, trying to catch sight of Nappy and Slugger, and also Werner. But those three unworthies did not show themselves.

"They know we've got it in for them," declared Jack. "They'll keep in hiding until they think this affair has blown over."

On the third day Dick Rover felt quite like himself, and he hired an automobile to take him and the boys, as well as Nick Ogilvie, to the Lorimer Spell claim. Somewhat to his surprise, he found Carson Davenport on the land, along with Tate and Jackson and half a dozen other men. More oil-well machinery had been brought up and dumped in a spot near the brook.

"What's the meaning of this, Davenport?" questioned Jack's father shortly.

"It means that I'm going to work on my own hook, Rover," answered Davenport, and there was a sneer in his voice. "I've got tired of trying to make a deal with you, and I've come to the conclusion that your claim is no good."

"I think I understand you perfectly," answered Dick Rover, and looked at the man so sharply that Davenport had to drop his eyes. "You think you have everything your own way, eh?"

"Never mind what I think. If you've got any real claim on this property you show the evidences. That little paper that Lorimer Spell wrote out on the battlefield of France doesn't hold water with me. You've got to show me the deeds, and all that sort of thing."

"A man can't show papers when he has been robbed of them," went on Jack's father pointedly.

"Humph! So that's your latest story, is it, Rover? First when I asked you for the papers you said they were in a safe deposit vault in Wichita Falls."

"So they were. But now I have been robbed of them, and you know it."

"I know it? Say, Rover, are you going crazy? I don't know any such thing," and now Davenport put on an assumption of anger.

"I say you do know it—you and your whole crowd!" retorted Dick Rover. "This land is a tract said to be full of oil, and you want to do me out of my rights." And now Jack's father appeared to warm up.

"Rover, I've had enough of your bluffing, and I won't stand for any more of it!" cried Carson Davenport. "You may be able to put up a big front with some folks, but it won't go with me. I claim that this land is mine, and I won't pay any more attention to what you say until you produce those precious papers that you have said so much about. And even then I may not listen to you. My private opinion is that the army authorities ought to take up your case and make an example of you," went on the oil promoter, with more of a sneer than before.

"The army authorities?" questioned Dick Rover, puzzled.

"That's what I said. I've heard a thing or two about you. It was all well enough for you to pull Spell in and get a medal for doing it. But when that poor fool wrote out a so-called will leaving you everything he possessed, I reckon he rather put his foot into it," finished Davenport significantly.

Jack's father and the boys were, of course, astonished, and even Davenport's companions showed that this was something they had not been expecting. The men crowded around to find out what was coming next.

"Davenport, I'll have to ask you to explain yourself!" exclaimed Dick Rover, and strode forward, his eyes flashing.

"Want me to explain myself, do you?" cried the oil promoter savagely. "All right, then, I will. According to reports Lorimer Spell ran out ahead of you in that fight, and then he was shot in the back. Do you understand that—shot in the back! Well, who did it? Certainly not the Germans. They were in front of him."

"Do you mean to insinuate that I or one of our other men shot Spell?" demanded Dick Rover, and now his face was almost white.

"He had made a will in your favor—you were the only one to profit by his death."

"You cur, you!" cried Dick Rover. And beside himself with righteous anger, he sprang forward and planted a blow on Carson Davenport's chin that made the oil well promoter stagger back and fall flat.

"Hi! Hi! None of that around here!" bellowed Jake Tate, and caught Dick Rover by the arm.

"You get back there," was the quick reply. "This is none of your affair. This man has accused me of something, and he is going to take it back."

"You let my father alone!" broke in Jack, and rushed toward Tate, followed by Randy and Nick Ogilvie. Then the fellow fell back. Jackson viewed the contest in silence.

By this time Carson Davenport was struggling to his feet. He was in a terrible rage and came at Dick Rover blusteringly.

"What do you mean by hitting me that way, Rover?" he howled.

"You take back what you said, Davenport. If you don't I'll give you another one!" exclaimed Jack's father.

"I'll take back nothing."

"All right, then—here goes!" And once more Dick Rover's fist shot out, and again the oil well promoter measured his length on the ground.

This time as he arose he put his hand behind him in his hip pocket. But before he could draw any weapon, if such was his intention, Dick Rover was on him and had his arms pinioned.

"There'll be no shooting here, Davenport. You try it, and you'll get the worst of it. Now, then, you take back what you said!" and Dick Rover shoved his clenched fist under the other's nose.

Carson Davenport could bluster, but at heart he was more or less of a coward. He tried to retreat, and as Jack's father followed him up he mumbled some words about there being a mistake and that he had not meant to say just what Jack's father had imagined.

"Poor Lorimer Spell was shot by the Huns," said Dick Rover, for the benefit of the other men standing around. "He had gone on ahead of our party, and then, finding out his mistake, he was in the act of turning around to get back in line when the shot struck him that killed him. To say that he was shot down by any of his own crowd is a wicked falsehood. Half a dozen men of our command can prove every word of what I have said."

"You'll rue the day you pitched into me, Rover," grumbled Davenport, but took good care to keep out of reach.

"You brought it on yourself," retorted Jack's father. "And now, as for this claim," he added, after a slight pause. "As all of my papers have been stolen I presume I can do nothing, even though this land may be the most valuable in oil in this vicinity. But I will watch the turn of affairs, and if I get a chance to prove anything I'll do it."

"You show me your papers, and if they are all right, I'll see that you get what is coming to you," mumbled Davenport. "But just the same, let me repeat—I don't believe there are any papers. The whole thing was a faked-up story to get me to give up my claim." Davenport was nursing his bruised chin. "And don't forget that you knocked me down when you had no right to do it," he added uglily.

"Are you going to sink a well here?"

"That's our business."

"What's the use of trying to hide it, anyhow?" put in Jake Tate. "Yes, we're going to sink a well here just as soon as we can get our machinery in working order."

"And we're going to do it with our own money. We're not asking any assistance from you," added Jackson.

"All right, then, go ahead," said Dick Rover. "I have no more to say—at least for the present." And then, motioning to the four boys and Nick Ogilvie to follow him, he withdrew.



CHAPTER XXVI

NEWS OF RUTH

"I guess they are pretty sure there is oil on that land," chuckled Andy, as the whole party got aboard the automobile and started back for town.

"I hope they sink about a hundred thousand dollars in that ground and get nothing for their trouble," added his twin.

"Gee, Dad, you certainly did soak Davenport a couple!" cried Jack admiringly.

"I did it on the spur of the moment, Son. I couldn't help it," declared Dick Rover. "It was too great an insult to pass unnoticed."

"And to think he didn't have the nerve to fight back!" added Fred. "I didn't imagine he was such a coward."

"Well, I was surprised at that myself," answered his uncle, with something of a smile. "But now listen to me, boys," he added seriously. "Don't think because I flew into Davenport that that is the right thing to do under all circumstances. He simply got me going before I knew it. Ordinarily fighting doesn't pay, and I want you to know it."

"But, Uncle Dick, that wasn't a fight—that was only a good spanking," said Andy, and at this all the others had to snicker.

"I reckon Davenport knew he was in the wrong when he made that dirty remark," came from Nick Ogilvie. "Why, in these parts many a man would have shot him down for those words. I don't wonder your father flew into him. He should have been licked until he was a fit subject for the hospital."

"Do you think I am doing right to let them work the claim?" questioned Jack's father.

"I certainly do, Mr. Rover. I want to get busy and earn the salary you have promised me, but I wouldn't want to start operations anywhere on that Spell claim. I know it has been thoroughly gone over by both Fitch and Lunberry, and both of those men are as good experts as you can find anywhere."

"Well, that forces me out of business for the time being, Ogilvie. I'll have to look around a little and see if it is worth while for me to take hold elsewhere. I presume all the really good claims around here have been covered."

"I don't know as to that, Mr. Rover. You see, lots of the ranches haven't been investigated very thoroughly. A fellow hits oil in one place and the whole gang follow him like a lot of sheep, and in doing that they may be passing by something a good deal better."

"Dad, why not look into this claim the Franklins own?" came from Jack.

"Are you talking of John Franklin?" questioned Nick Ogilvie.

"Yes."

"I thought that claim was in the hands of some other fellows—Tate, Jackson, and that crowd."

"They did make a claim on it, so Mr. Franklin says, but he managed in some way or other to get them out of it. I guess they left it mostly because they thought they could do better on the Spell place."

"Well, I don't know anything about John Franklin's place, but I do know he's a decent sort of fellow and I'd like to see him do well."

"If you are satisfied that Mr. Fitch is all right, Dad, why not have him make a survey of the Franklin place?" suggested Jack.

"Perhaps I'll do that—after I've had a talk with Franklin," answered his father.

Dick Rover was not a person to waste time, and he sought out John Franklin and his son Phil the very next day and had a long talk with the pair. Then, on the Monday following, he visited the Franklin farm, taking Nick Ogilvie and two other oil men with him. The boys wished to go along, but to this Jack's father demurred.

"I don't want too much of a crowd along," he said. "If anything comes of it you can visit the place later. At present you had better try to amuse yourselves around the town. And do try to keep out of trouble," he added, with a smile.

Left to themselves, the four young Rovers visited the railroad station and then drifted into the shooting gallery. Here they got up a little contest among themselves, shooting at the longest range target the gallery afforded. In this contest, which lasted the best part of an hour, Jack came out ahead, making seventeen bull's-eyes out of a possible twenty-five. Next to him came Randy with a score of fifteen.

"Say, what kind of a prize do I get?" questioned Andy, who had hit the bull's-eye but nine times, two less than Fred.

"You get a decorated cabbage head, Andy," replied his twin. "A cabbage head and two lemons."

"I don't care, I saved the target for the man, anyway," grinned the fun-loving Rover. "The one Jack shot at is all mussed up." And at this sally the others had to laugh.

After lunch the boys sat down to write some letters and to read some newspapers which had just come in. In the news was word of some big oil well strikes at a place about forty miles distant.

"Gosh! look at this, will you?" cried Fred, pointing to the article. "Two wells just came in, and each of them good for twelve hundred barrels of oil a day! Now that's what I call something like!"

"Wouldn't it be glorious if my dad could strike something like that?"

"I wish we could hit half a dozen wells, then our dads could start The Rover Oil Company. We'd make money hand over fist. Wouldn't that be grand!"

"You keep on and you'll be dreaming of oil," laughed Jack.

"It certainly is the land of luck," returned Randy.

"It doesn't look like the land of luck for this fellow," remarked Fred, pointing to a ragged and unkempt individual who had just entered the reading room of the hotel. The man was about middle age, and had a most decidedly dejected appearance.

"I was wondering if you young gents couldn't aid me a little?" he whined, coming up to Jack and Randy. "I've been playing in mighty hard luck lately. I haven't had a square meal in two days."

"What's the matter—can't you get a job?" asked Jack.

"Job! What do you mean?" questioned the unkempt individual in wonder.

"If you're out of luck, why don't you go to work?"

"Say, maybe you don't know who I am!" exclaimed the man indignantly.

"You're right there. Who are you?"

"I am Wellington Jonkers, the man who opened the Little Kitty and the Fat Herring. You must have heard about those properties. We sold eighty thousand shares of one and sixty thousand shares of the other."

"What at?" questioned Randy. "Two cents a share?"

"No, sir! Those shares went for twenty and twenty-five cents," said the man. And then, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, he continued: "If you young gents can stake me to a hundred or two I can put you wise to the biggest proposition in oil down here—a proposition that is bound to bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars three months after it's started. I've got everything fixed to go right ahead. You just put up the two hundred, and I'll show you some facts and figures that will open your eyes. I've got the real dope, and——"

"You poor fish, you!" exclaimed Jack. "What do you take us for, anyhow?"

He and the others had seen this type of oil well community parasite before. In the restaurant attached to the hotel and also at the railroad station and at the shooting gallery they had met more than one slick individual who had wanted to "put them wise to the biggest oil proposition" imaginable, all for the small sum of from two cents to fifty cents per share in oil wells with such fanciful names as Sure Winner, Daylight Luck, and Sunshine Sally.

"Then you don't want to go into a real good thing?" said the man, his face falling.

"Not with you."

The man turned away, but then turned back:

"Say, you couldn't lend me five dollars until to-night, could you? I'm a little short. My pard will be back on the seven-fifteen train, and then I'll be all fixed again."

"I haven't anything for you," answered Jack shortly.

"And neither have I," added Randy. And then, lighting a cigarette, the man shuffled away to see if he could not find some victims elsewhere.

"There's your land of luck from another angle," remarked Jack. "What pests those fellows are."

"Well, I suppose they start in with all sorts of hopes, Jack. And then they sink lower and lower as nothing proves lucky," answered his cousin.

The boys were waiting for the mail, and presently it came in. There were letters for all of them, some from home and others from their chums who were now enjoying themselves in various places. Dan Soppinger had gone to Atlantic City, while Ned Lowe and Walt Baxter were on an island in Casco Bay on the Maine coast. Gif was visiting Spouter and his folks in a camp at Lake George.

"I'll bet they're having a lot of fun at Lake George," remarked Fred, "swimming and motor-boating, and all that."

"Fred is thinking of May," returned Andy, with a grin.

"Aw, you cut that out, Andy!" retorted his cousin, growing slightly red in the face. "You know you'd like to be up there yourself."

One of Jack's letters was from Gif, and in that his chum mentioned the fact that Ruth was still in the care of the eye specialist and that her case was a very serious one. He told Jack much more than Martha had let out, and this news made the oldest Rover boy worry greatly.

"It's a terrible thing," he confided to Randy. "Just suppose poor Ruth should go blind!" and he shuddered.

"Oh, Jack! I don't believe it's as bad as all that," cried his cousin. "Why, Ruth was almost over it when we came away from school."

"No, she wasn't. That's just the trouble. The doctor up there evidently didn't give her enough care—or, at least, just the right kind of care. Of course, he did the best he knew how, but he wasn't an expert in that line. After Ruth got home her eyes must have developed some new trouble, all, of course, on account of that pepper Werner threw."

"It was a rotten thing for Werner to do!" declared Randy, his eyes flashing. "Really, do you know, Jack, I think we should have had him arrested for it."

"He'll certainly have to account to the Stevensons if Ruth goes blind—he and his father. I believe the Stevensons could sue Mr. Werner for big damages."

"Of course they could."

"That certainly is a terrible affair," remarked Fred, who had been perusing Gif's letter. "I think we ought to round Werner up and give it to him good and plenty. He deserves the licking of his life."

"The question is—where is Werner?" put in Andy.

"If he is still around Columbina he must be with Nappy and Slugger," said Randy. "But it's just possible that he has cleared out, thinking that we might hand him over to the authorities."

"I can't understand what would possess a fellow to do such a dirty thing as that," was Fred's comment. "Why, he might have blinded Jack, as well as Ruth. And, by the way, Jack, how do your eyes feel?"

"They feel just about as usual. At first they felt rather scratchy and watery, but now I haven't noticed anything unusual for some time—in fact, never since we came down to Texas. But, you see, I got very little of the pepper. The most of it went over my shoulder and right into poor Ruth's eyes."

The boys discussed the matter for some time, and then turned to finish the letters they had started to write. Soon the twins and Fred were deep in their writing, but Jack could not settle himself to put down a word. His mind was with Ruth. What if the girl he thought so much of should go blind? It was a thought that chilled him to the heart.



CHAPTER XXVII

CAUGHT BY THE ENEMY

Dick Rover did not return to the hotel until late that evening. The boys were waiting for him, and Jack noted that his father's face wore a smile of satisfaction.

"I think I have struck something worth while," said he. "I have been over the Franklin claim very carefully with Nick Ogilvie and the two men he recommended, and as a result I have already telegraphed for Mr. Fitch to come here."

"Then Ogilvie and the others think there is oil on that claim?" questioned Randy quickly.

"They say the indications are very good. In fact, one of the men was very enthusiastic and he was willing to put up five thousand dollars toward boring a well in one spot that he picked out."

"That certainly shows he must have faith in it," remarked Fred.

"When do you expect Mr. Fitch?" asked Andy.

"I asked him to come over as soon as possible—to-morrow if he could."

"Do you think you can make some kind of a reasonable arrangement with Mr. Franklin, in case the oil expert's report is good?" asked Jack.

"Yes, I found Mr. Franklin a very fair man. Of course, he would like to get as much as possible out of any deal that is made. But he is reasonable, and has agreed to give me entire charge of the matter and take his pay at the rate of one-eighth of all the oil that may be produced."

After that Dick Rover went into many of the details concerning the land and what the different oil men had said regarding it. Of course the boys were tremendously interested, not only on their own account, but also because of Phil Franklin.

"I liked that fellow first rate," said Fred, "and I do hope his father is able to get some money out of this."

On the following day Mr. Fitch came in, and he and Jack's father went over the matter very carefully. Then the oil expert said he would begin an inspection of the property as soon as he could send for his outfit.

After that there was little for the boys to do but wait. Dick Rover took another trip to Wichita Falls, and then to several other places in the oil fields, including two towns in Oklahoma. He was getting figures of oil-well machinery, and also trying to become better acquainted with the whole oil proposition.

"You see, it's a new thing to me," he explained to Jack. "It's altogether different from those mining interests your uncles and I hold in the West and in Alaska. I've never had anything to do with oil before, and so I am going a bit slow, so as to avoid mistakes if possible."

As mentioned before, the Franklin farm was located near a place called Pottown. The Rovers visited this community and found there a small but well-kept hotel at which they took dinner one day.

"I think I like this just as well as the hotel in Columbina," remarked Fred.

"In some respects I think I like it better," answered Randy.

"What would you say to transferring to Pottown?" questioned their uncle. "Then you could be quite close to the Franklins while you stay here."

This suited the boys, and as a result the transfer was made early the next week. The Rovers had a suite of three rooms, Jack's father occupying one, the twins another, and Fred and Jack the third.

In the meantime Mr. Fitch had gone to work on the Franklin farm. He had with him two of his best men, and all of them went over the entire place with care. They also visited all of the wells in that vicinity, as well as the unfinished borings.

"When do you think you can make a report, Mr. Fitch?" questioned Dick Rover one day.

"I'm almost ready now, Mr. Rover. You shall have the report by next Monday."

The weather had been rather dry, and now the roads throughout that section were much better than they had been. In Pottown the boys had little trouble in hiring an automobile, and they often took trips to various places where the oil wells were in operation. They saw another well set off, and managed to get themselves covered with not a little of the black fluid.

"Suppose we take a run over to the Spell farm?" suggested Jack one day. "I've been wondering whether they really went ahead or whether it was only a bluff."

"I don't think it was any bluff," returned Randy. "They were getting in their machinery just as fast as they could."

If Dick Rover had been present he might have advised against visiting the Lorimer Spell claim. In a roundabout way he had heard from Carson Davenport. The oil well promoter had not forgotten how he had been knocked down, and he had told a number of people that he intended sooner or later to square accounts with "that fellow from New York."

But Jack's father was not on hand to see them ride away, and so without giving the matter much more consideration the boys had the driver of the automobile head towards the place where the encounter between Davenport and Dick Rover had taken place.

"My gracious! just see how the oil wells are coming in, will you?" cried Fred, while they were riding along. He pointed to a hillside where two new wells were at work. "Those weren't here when we went through before."

"It looks to me as if some of these folks were fairly crazy about oil," remarked Randy.

"Well, it's a terrible temptation to get busy when you think that under your very feet there may be thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of that stuff," returned Jack.

"What a different place this is from around Colby Hall," commented Fred.

"Yes. And quite different from Valley Brook Farm, too," added Randy.

"What's the matter with comparing it with Riverside Drive?" questioned Andy, with a grin. "Don't you see the Hudson River over there with the stately warships?" and as he spoke he pointed to a pond of water, the surface of which was black with oil and on which floated several logs.

"In one way I think the old fellow I was talking with last night was right," declared Jack. "He said that the oil had spoiled the whole country. Just look around, will you? Everything is black and greasy with oil."

"Well, they say 'dirty work makes clean money,'" cried Randy. "And I guess a lot of these men don't care how much they muss up the scenery and muss up themselves so long as they get good fat bank accounts out of it."

At length they came in sight of the Lorimer Spell tract, and they were both surprised and interested at the activity being displayed there. A gang of at least thirty men were at work, some around a well which was being sunk and others in erecting several buildings.

"They certainly mean business," remarked Jack, as they came to a halt near the bank of the little brook which flowed through one of the corners of the property. "You've got to give them credit—they didn't let the grass grow under their feet."

"I wonder if they are using their own money or whether they got some outsiders to invest," mused Fred.

Not wishing to get into any altercation with the workers, the Rovers kept at a distance. They saw Tate and Jackson among the men. Each was giving orders, and both seemed to be in charge of the operations. Carson Davenport was not visible.

One small building was already complete, and this was being used as an office. The door stood open, and presently a young fellow came out, lighting a cigarette as he did so.

"Hello, there is Nappy Martell!" exclaimed Andy.

Martell stood leaning against the corner of the building, smoking his cigarette and gazing idly at the workmen. Then he chanced to glance around and caught sight of the Rovers. He at once poked his head back into the building and said something to someone inside.

"He's coming this way," announced Fred.

"Yes, and there is Slugger Brown behind him," added Randy.

"They've got their nerve with them, after the way they treated us!" growled Jack.

"What do you fellows want around here?" demanded Nappy coolly, as he came closer.

"I'll bet they want to see how we are getting along," put in Slugger Brown. He was puffing away at a briar-root pipe, trying his best to look mannish.

"See here, you fellows, what did you mean by your actions the night you got us to walk out to that storehouse?" demanded Jack.

"That wasn't our fault," broke out Nappy hastily. "We weren't responsible for what Gabe Werner did."

"I don't believe Gabe was in it at all!" cried Fred.

"He was too. He got us to go after you, exactly as I told you," protested Nappy.

"But he wasn't there," said Fred. "And it wasn't a boarding house either."

"I don't care. He was there when we left him to find you. And he wanted to see all of you the worst way." Nappy turned to Slugger. "Isn't that right, Slug?"

"It certainly is. He said he would wait there until we got back. In fact, he said his leg hurt him so he couldn't go a step further, and he said he knew the old folks who lived there very well. We didn't know anything more than what he told us."

"I don't believe a word of your story, Nappy. I believe it's made up from end to end," answered Jack. "You simply had your orders to keep us from going into the hotel, and you carried those orders out to the best of your ability. My opinion is you were in league with those men who robbed my father of his papers."

"I was not. I don't know what you're talking about!" roared Nappy, but his face grew pale as he spoke. "I didn't even know your father had been robbed. Gabe Werner had been hurt. We thought his leg had been broken, although we found out afterwards it was only hurt. He wanted to see all of you—why, I don't know. We simply tried to do him a favor, and this is what we get for it."

"Nappy is telling things just as they were," declared Slugger.

"It's a fairy tale," declared Andy. "If it was true, why did you and Nappy hide when we came up?"

"Because we knew you would be mad when you got there and found that Gabe was missing," answered Slugger.

"Where is Werner now?"

"I don't know. I think he has gone home—anyway, he said something about going," was the glib reply.

"What are you fellows doing here?"

"We own an interest in this claim," answered Nappy loftily, and as he spoke he lit a fresh cigarette.

"Own an interest here?" demanded Jack in pardonable astonishment.

"That's it. I got my folks to buy an eighth interest in the whole outfit, and Slugger's folks bought an equal amount."

"Must have cost you something," said Fred.

"It cost our folks ten thousand dollars each," answered Slugger, in a bragging tone. "But we'll get that back, and a good deal more, too," he added.

"Did Gabe Werner's folks put up anything?" questioned Randy.

"Yes, they have an eighth interest, too," answered Nappy. "Oh, this is going to be some big concern, believe me."

"What about it if my father gets back those papers of which he was robbed?" questioned Jack pointedly.

"Oh, say, Jack Rover, you needn't come to me with that old yarn," growled Slugger. "We know there isn't a word of truth in it. Your father never had any such papers."

"He certainly did have them, and some day he may be able to prove it," answered Jack warmly. "On the very night that you fellows got us to go out to that storehouse he was knocked down in one of our rooms by two or three men and the papers were taken from him. And what is more, I am pretty sure in my mind that the fellows who took them were Davenport and his partners."

"Then you mean to say that Mr. Davenport is a thief?" cried Slugger, looking Jack full in the face.

"That's what I firmly believe."

Jack had scarcely uttered the words when he felt a heavy hand placed upon his shoulder. He was whirled around, to find himself face to face with the oil promoter.



"So that is the way you are talking about me, is it?" cried Carson Davenport, in a rage. "Calling me a thief, and all that sort of thing! I reckon I have an account to settle with you, and I'll settle it right now. You come with me."

And thus speaking he grasped Jack by the arm and dragged him across the field to where his gang of men were at work.



CHAPTER XXVIII

AT THE FRANKLIN PLACE

Carson Davenport's action came so unexpectedly that for the instant Jack did not know what to do. Then, however, he tried to wrench himself free from the oil well promoter's grasp.

"You let go of me!" he cried. "Let go, I say!" And then, as Davenport continued to hold him, he struck the man on the chest.

"Ha! you're the same kind of a spitfire as your father, are you?" bellowed Davenport. And in a greater rage than ever he let go of Jack and hit him a stinging blow on the side of the face.

"Hi! Stop that! How dare you?" yelled Randy, and sprang forward to Jack's assistance. But before he could reach his cousin Jack had hauled off and hit Davenport a blow in the cheek.

By this time all of the Rovers were advancing upon Davenport, and the oil well promoter thought it the best policy to fall back.

"Come on, Nappy! Let's get into this!" cried Slugger, and, rushing forward, he caught Randy by the shoulder. "You let them have it out alone!" he ordered.

"This isn't your fight, Slugger, and you had better keep out of it," retorted Randy. And then, as Slugger still tried to hold him back, Randy put out his foot, gave the bully a shove, and Slugger measured his length on his back.

In the meanwhile Nappy had also sprung forward. He tried to get at Jack, but Andy and Fred got in the way, and though Nappy struck out several times, hitting both of the Rovers on the arm, they retaliated with a stinging crack in the ear and another on the nose which caused the blood to flow freely and made Nappy retire to a safe distance.

By this time the all-around fight had attracted the attention of a number of the workmen, and they came rushing up to find out what it was all about. The driver of the automobile, who had remained in the car, also came forward.

"I'll fix you, you young whelp!" roared Davenport, as he came again toward Jack.

"You leave me alone," returned Jack. "Don't you dare put your hands on me again!"

"Here, what's the rumpus?" demanded the driver of the automobile, a fellow named George Rogers.

The boys started to explain, not only for the benefit of Rogers, but also for the benefit of the workmen who were coming up.

"That whole bunch ought to be arrested!" blustered Slugger.

"That's what I say!" added Nappy, with his handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

"That man started it," declared Jack, pointing to Davenport. "He caught hold of me, and I told him to let me go. He had no right to put his hands on me."

After this there was a war of words in which Tate and Jackson, who had come up, joined. The oil well promoters were all anxious to do something to the Rover boys, and in this they were seconded by Nappy and Slugger. But, strange as it may seem, hardly any of the workmen took kindly to this.

"Oh, they're only a bunch of kids," said one of the men. "What's the use of bothering with them?"

"That man is mad at me because my father knocked him down twice the other day," declared Jack, turning to the workmen. "And he knows why he was knocked down," he added significantly.

"Was it your dad who did that?" questioned one of the men in the rear of the crowd.

"It was. This farm was left to my father by Lorimer Spell because my father saved Spell's life on a battlefield in France. My father had a lot of papers to prove his claim, but the papers were stolen from him."

"I heard something about that," said another of the workmen.

"See here! if you fellows are going to believe such a story as these kids are giving you, you can't work for me!" roared Carson Davenport, with a scowl.

"I don't have to work for you if I don't want to," answered one of the workmen quickly and with a scowl.

"See here, Carson Davenport, you let me have a word or two to say!" broke in George Rogers. "I know you just about as well as anybody here. You are the fellow who sold stock in the Yellow Pansy Extension, something that I and a whole lot of others got bit on badly. Maybe you'd like me to rake up that little deal in the courts for you."

"Rats! You don't have to dig up ancient history, Rogers!" growled Davenport; but it was easy to see that the other's words disturbed him not a little.

"I'll dig it up good and plenty if you don't leave these boys alone! I don't know much about 'em, but they seem to be perfectly straightforward, and their father is as nice a man as I ever met."

More words followed, Davenport, as well as Tate and Jackson, doing a lot of grumbling. Once or twice Slugger and Nappy tried to take part, but some of the workmen cut them short, and in the end one crowd moved toward the automobile while the other headed in the opposite direction.

"Well, that's the time matters got pretty hot," was Andy's comment.

"Gee! one time I thought we'd all be at it tooth and nail," declared Fred.

"In my opinion that fellow Davenport is nothing but a skunk," declared George Rogers. "I've known him for years. He has been in half a dozen oil-well propositions, selling stocks and leases. One time he caught three young fellows from Chicago and sold them a lease for several thousand dollars that wasn't worth a pinch of snuff. Then he started what he called the Yellow Pansy Extension. The regular Yellow Pansy was doing very well—hitting it up for about eight hundred barrels a day—and of course lots of people, including myself, thought that the Extension belonged to the same crowd. But it didn't, and the lease was absolutely worthless; so that all of the buyers of stock got stung. I myself was hung up for fifteen hundred dollars, almost all the cash I had at that time."

"Why didn't they put Davenport and his partners in prison?" asked Fred.

"Because he is one of those slick fellows who can worm out of almost anything. One or two fellows did make some sort of charges against him, but they all fell through. There are hundreds of swindlers in the oil business, and not one out of a dozen is ever caught."

"If Uncle Dick makes up his mind to go ahead on the Franklin farm I think I know a way of helping him," said Andy, with a grin.

"What are you going to do, Andy? Take off your coat, roll up your sleeves, and grab a pick and shovel?" questioned his twin.

"Not exactly, although I might want to do that later on. But I was thinking that a good many of those workmen didn't seem to be satisfied with their job. Maybe they would be only too glad to shift."

Although they hated to do so, the boys felt it was their duty to tell the particulars of what had occurred to Jack's father as soon as they saw him.

"It's too bad you got into another mix-up with that rascal, as well as with Martell and Brown," said Dick Rover. "After this I think you had better stay away from that locality. We'll let them go ahead and sink all the money they care to."

Jack's father had been making some inquiries, and he learned that it was true that the Martells, the Browns, and Mr. Werner had contributed thirty thousand dollars towards driving two wells on the Spell claim. To this amount of money Davenport, Tate and Jackson had contributed another twenty thousand dollars.

"Fifty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Jack, when he heard of this. "That certainly is quite a sum of money."

"It costs money to bore for oil in these parts," answered his father.

As he had promised, Mr. Fitch came to Dick Rover on the following Monday with his report concerning the Franklin farm.

"I think you have found something well worth trying, Mr. Rover," said he. "There are indications of oil in half a dozen places, and two of the spots to me look particularly inviting."

Then he went into many details and brought in one of his assistants to verify some of the statements. Dick Rover listened carefully to all that was said, and then leaned back in his chair and looked at the oil expert sharply.

"Then on the strength of this report, Mr. Fitch, you would advise my sinking at least two wells?"

"I certainly would, Mr. Rover. That is, of course, if you can afford to take the gamble. I'm almost certain that the oil is there, but you must remember that even the best of us are sometimes deceived. However, I will say this—I am not a particularly rich man, but if you sink these two wells in the spots that I have picked out and you form a company at, say, one hundred thousand dollars, for that purpose, I am willing to put up five thousand dollars in cash for some of the stock."

"That certainly sounds as if you had faith in it," answered Dick Rover, with a smile. "Are you willing to put that in writing?"

"I am, sir," and Mr. Fitch's face showed that he meant what he said.

"Very well, then, you do so, and I'll start operations to-morrow."

As soon as it was definitely settled that Mr. Rover would go ahead and sink the two wells, the boys hurried over to see Phil Franklin. They found the lad all smiles.

"It's the best news I ever heard," said Phil, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "Now, dad and I will have a chance of making some real money." For it had now been settled that John Franklin was to have an eighth interest in the new company to be formed.

"I'm awfully glad my dad is going ahead on your farm," answered Jack. "And I hope for your sake as well as our own that the wells prove regular gushers."

"That Mr. Fitch was very hopeful," answered Phil. "And my father says he's one of the best oil experts to be found anywhere. He's an old hand at the game."

That week and the week following proved to be tremendously busy ones for Dick Rover. In conference with Nick Ogilvie and several others, all the work preliminary to the sinking of the two wells was gotten under way, and deals were closed for nearly all the necessary machinery, and also for a quantity of lumber to be used in the construction of several buildings.

"We're going to stay right in our house," said Phil to the other boys. "We sha'n't get out until the flow of oil compels us to."

"Well, I hope the oil comes so fast it floats the old shack away," grinned Andy.

It soon became noised around that The Rover Oil Company had been formed to exploit the Franklin farm. In the meanwhile Nick Ogilvie and his assistants were hustling as much as possible to obtain the needed workmen. They managed to get together a gang of fifteen, but then there came a halt.

"They are hitting it up for oil over the line in Oklahoma," declared Ogilvie, "and that has taken away a good many of our workmen."

"Better go to Wichita Falls and see what you can do," suggested Dick Rover.

The next day Jack and Andy, while riding in George Rogers' automobile, ran across three of the men employed by Davenport. These men had had a quarrel with Tate, and were on the point of leaving their job. They listened with interest to what the boys had to say about the Franklin place.

"If they want men I think I'll go over and see about it," said one of the workmen.

"So will I," came from another; and the third nodded to show that he agreed.

As a result of this interview the three men called on Nick Ogilvie and were speedily engaged. They told some of their friends; and before the week was up six of Carson Davenport's best workers had left the Spell claim and had signed up to work on the Franklin farm.



CHAPTER XXIX

DAYS OF ANXIETY

"I wonder what Davenport will say when he finds those men are working here?" remarked Fred.

"I don't care what he says," answered Jack.

"Do you think he'll dare come over here and have it out with Uncle Dick?" questioned Andy.

"I don't think so," answered his brother. "I believe behind it all he is afraid we'll have him arrested for the theft of those documents."

"If he really took them, what do you think he did with them?" came from Fred.

"More than likely he destroyed them," answered Jack. "He wouldn't want evidence like that lying around loose, you know."

When Carson Davenport learned that six of his men had deserted and gone over to the Rovers he was more angry than ever.

"They're going to do their best to undermine us," he said to Tate. "I wish I knew just how to get square with them."

"We'll get square enough if we strike oil here," said Tate. "Those Rovers will feel sick enough if they learn we are making a barrel of money."

"It's easy enough to talk about making a barrel of money," came from Jackson, who was present. "But I don't see the money flowing in very fast." He had been talking to a number of his friends, and many of them had said they thought the chances of getting oil from the Spell claim were very slim.

"Oh, you just hold your horses, Jackson," said Carson Davenport smoothly. "Take my word for it, this well we are putting down is going to be one of the biggest in this territory."

But though he spoke thus, Davenport did not believe what he said. He, too, was becoming suspicious that they might be drilling a well which would prove dry. However, he had the traits of a gambler, and was willing to go ahead so long as there was the least possibility of success.

As the days slipped by the work on both claims progressed rapidly. Nick Ogilvie managed to hire a few men in and around Wichita Falls, and Davenport also picked up some workers to take the places of those who had deserted him.

In those days the Rover boys became almost as enthusiastic as Jack's father, and their enthusiasm increased when Tom Rover and Sam Rover took a run down from New York to see how matters were progressing.

"It certainly is a gamble—this boring for oil," remarked Sam Rover.

"But it looks like a good gamble to me," answered his brother Tom. "And I like the way that man Fitch talks." He had had an interview with the oil expert which had pleased him greatly.

On one occasion the Rover boys rode over from Pottown to Columbina. There, at the shooting-gallery they had visited before, they ran most unexpectedly, not only into Nappy and Slugger, but also Gabe Werner. At the sight of them Werner tried to get out of the gallery by the back way, but was stopped by the proprietor.

"You haven't settled with me yet," said the shooting-gallery man.

"Oh, that's all right. Take it out of this," growled Werner, and threw down a dollar bill. Then he tried to pass out again, but before he could do so Randy and Fred caught and held the rascal.

Cornered, Gabe Werner tried to put up a fight, and in this he got by far the worst of it. He managed to get in one or two blows, but then Randy knocked him down, and when he arose to his feet Fred landed on his ear so that the bully spun around and lurched heavily against the counter on which rested a number of guns.

"You let me alone!" roared Werner. And then he suddenly caught up one of the guns and made a move as though to aim it at the Rovers. But the keeper of the shooting gallery was too quick for him, and wrested the weapon from the big youth's grasp.

And then Gabe Werner did catch it. Not only did Randy and Fred pounce upon him, but also Jack and Andy, and as a consequence, bruised and bleeding, the big bully staggered from the shooting gallery and set off down the muddy street at the best speed he could command.

"There! I guess we've settled him for a while," panted Randy, when the encounter was over. "Hello! where are Nappy and Slugger?"

"They slid out while we were taking care of Gabe," answered Andy. "I guess they thought things were getting too warm." And in that surmise the fun-loving Rover was correct. Dismayed by the beating Werner was receiving, Nappy and Slugger had lost no time in departing for parts unknown. It was a long time before the Rovers saw them again.

A few days later came word from the Spell claim that filled the Rovers with astonishment mingled somewhat with dismay. Oil had been reported, and every one connected with the Davenport outfit was of the opinion that the well when shot off would open up big.

"Gee! suppose they do strike it rich?" cried Fred.

"I don't think they will—not after what the experts said," answered Jack.

"But even Mr. Fitch said they sometimes made mistakes," put in Randy.

A few days later the well on the Spell claim was shot off, and this was followed by a flow of oil amounting to forty or fifty barrels a day. Then it was announced that the Davenport crowd was going to sink the well several hundred feet deeper and they were also going to put down another well farther up the brook.

"I reckon that flow of oil has got 'em a-going," remarked Nick Ogilvie, and there was just a trace of envy in his tones. "Well, that's the luck of it. You can't tell anything about it," and he shook his head wonderingly as he went about his duties.

So far, there had been no indications of oil at the first well which the Rovers were boring. But Mr. Fitch had told Jack's father not to expect too much until a depth of at least twenty-five hundred feet was reached.

It made the boys feel a little blue to think that the Davenport crowd had been the first to strike oil.

"Won't Nappy and Slugger crow over this—especially as their folks have an interest in the well?" remarked Jack.

But the next day something happened which made Jack forget all his troubles for the time being. A telegram came in from his sister Martha, reading as follows:

"Ruth's eyes operated on yesterday. Very successful. Expert says she will see perfectly."

"Isn't this grand!" cried Jack, his whole face beaming with pleasure. "I declare, this is the best news yet!"

"I don't blame you for being pleased, Jack," answered Randy. "I'll wager the Stevensons feel relieved."

The telegram was followed by a letter which gave many details. But the main feature was that the operation had been entirely successful and that the surgeon in charge had said positively that Ruth's eyes would soon be as well and as strong as they had ever been.

"I am going to send her a telegram of congratulation," declared Jack. "Even if she can't read it herself, they can read it to her," and he hurried off to the telegraph station for that purpose.

After that the boys waited anxiously for some sort of development at the Franklin farm. Tom Rover and his brother Sam had returned to New York, and they had wanted the boys to go with them, but all had pleaded that they be allowed to remain in Texas.

"We want to see the wells shot off and want to see the oil flow—that is, provided it does flow," said Randy.

"We might as well put in our vacation here as anywhere," put in Fred. And so the four lads were allowed to remain.

Of course, the Franklins were as anxious as any one to see how matters would turn out. Father and son were working for the company and doing their best to hurry matters along. Dick Rover was also on hand daily, consulting with Ogilvie and his assistants to make sure that everything was going right.

"These two wells are going to cost us about seventy thousand dollars," Jack's father confided to him. "It's a mint of money, isn't it?" and he smiled slightly.

"It certainly is, Dad. Especially if the wells don't pan out."

"Well, we've got to take what comes. You must remember this is the land of luck—good or bad."

At last Ogilvie announced that they were getting to the point where the first well would soon be shot off. There were some indications of oil, although not as strong as Mr. Fitch had hoped. The oil expert had put up his five thousand dollars in the company which had been formed, so he was almost as anxious as those who had larger sums invested.

"Here's news for you!" shouted Andy, bursting in on the others the next noon. "What do you know about this? Say, I guess those fellows are going to catch it all right enough!" and he began to dance around the floor.

"What are you talking about, Andy?" demanded his brother.

"They say the well on the Lorimer Spell claim has run dry!"

"Run dry!" came from the others.

"Yes, run dry—or next door to it! They got only fifteen barrels the day before yesterday, and yesterday they got not more than three."

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Jack. "Who told you this?"

"One of the men who worked there. Carson Davenport was so mad that when the man said something to him about it he fired him. The man said he was coming over here to look for a job—that he was sure the whole thing was petering out."

The news soon circulated, and Dick Rover was so interested that he went off the next day to Columbina to ascertain the truth.

"It's so, all right enough," he said, on returning. "They didn't get more than a barrel or so to-day. It has certainly gone back on them. Of course, they can bore the well deeper. But I guess Mr. Fitch was right. He said that there was more or less surface oil—that they hadn't tapped any real vein or pocket."

The day before the first of the wells on the Franklin farm was to be shot off the Rover boys went to Columbina on an errand to one of the stores. Just as they were coming out of this establishment they saw an automobile dash through the mud on the way to the railroad station. Behind it came another automobile filled with a number of men, all yelling wildly for those in the first automobile to stop.

"Hello, something is going on!" exclaimed Jack.

"Let's go after them and see what's doing," suggested Fred.

The others were willing, and all set off on a run down the main thoroughfare of the town. As they ran they heard the distant whistle of a locomotive.

"I guess the crowd in the first auto want to catch that three-o'clock express," remarked Fred.

"Yes, and evidently the second crowd want to stop them," returned Andy.

The excitement had attracted the attention of a number of people, and a crowd of a dozen or more followed the boys to the railroad station, all wondering what was the matter.

As soon as the first automobile reached the railroad platform a man sprang from the car, holding a Gladstone bag in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He looked back, and then made a wild dash for the train, which was just rolling into the station.

"Look! It's Carson Davenport!" exclaimed Jack.

"And see who are after him—Tate, Jackson and three or four other men!"

"Stop, Davenport!" yelled one of the men. "Stop or I'll shoot!" and he flourished a revolver, and another man in the crowd did the same. Then the bunch jumped from the second automobile and dashed pell-mell toward the train.



CHAPTER XXX

THE NEW WELL—CONCLUSION

Carson Davenport was halfway up the steps of the car when Jake Tate and another man hauled him backward to the station platform.

"They've got him!" exclaimed Jack, as he and his cousins, along with the rest of the gathering crowd, came closer.

"Hi! Hi! Let me alone!" yelled Davenport. "Don't shoot! What is the meaning of this, anyway?"

"You know well enough what it means!" bellowed Tate, still clutching him by the arm. "You come back here. You are not going to take that train or any other just yet."

"And you're not going to carry off that bag, either," put in Jackson, as he wrenched the Gladstone away.

By this time the crowd completely surrounded Carson Davenport, and the pistols which had been drawn were speedily thrust out of sight. The oil well promoter was pushed in the direction of the little railroad station, and in the midst of this excitement the train pulled out.

"What's the rumpus about, anyway?" exclaimed one man in the crowd.

"Never mind what it's about," broke in Tate hastily. "This is our affair."

"That's right—maybe we had better keep it to ourselves," muttered Jackson.

"I don't believe in shielding him," cried one man who had chased Davenport and who wore several soldier's medals on his vest. "He's a swindler, and it's best everybody knew it. He was on the point of lighting out for parts unknown with all the money that was put into his oil wells up on the Spell ranch."

"Is that right?" burst out another man.

"It is. And Tate and Jackson know it as well as I do. I guess Davenport came to the conclusion that those wells he was putting down were no good, and rather than sink any more money into them he was going to run off with it."

"I wasn't running off with anything," declared Carson Davenport. "I was going to put the money into the bank at Wichita Falls. I had a perfect right to do that," and as he spoke he glared at Tate and Jackson.

"Say, if you're going to talk that way, I won't stand in with you any longer!" cried Jackson, in a rage. "That money is going to stay right here, where I and all the rest of us can keep our eyes on it!"

"That's right—don't let him get away with a dollar of it!" burst out another man in the crowd.

"We'd better examine this bag first and make sure that we've got what we came after," declared the man who wore the medals on his vest.

Davenport tried to demur, but none of the crowd would listen to him. Although the Gladstone bag was locked, the oil well promoter was compelled to give up the key, and then the others looked over the contents of the bag.

"Twenty-six thousand dollars here," announced Tate, as he counted the money in the presence of the others.

"What's this package?" demanded the man who wore the medals. "Hello! Look here!" he exclaimed an instant later, after he had glanced at one of several documents held together by a rubber band.

"What have you got?" questioned Tate curiously.

"You let those alone!" bellowed Davenport, his face turning pale. "Give them to me! They are my private property!" and he endeavored to snatch the documents from the other man's hand.

"Not much!" answered the man with the medals, Corporal John Dunning, who had served over a year in France. "These papers belong to Mr. Richard Rover, and he is the one who is going to get them."

"Richard Rover!" burst out Jack, who was close enough to catch the words. "Why, that's my father!"

"I tell you I want those papers! They are mine!" screamed Carson Davenport, and now he made another struggle to get them.

In the melee which followed Corporal Dunning was hit by the oil well promoter, who in return received a blow full in the mouth which loosened several of his teeth.

"If those are my father's papers they must be the same that were stolen from him while we were stopping at a hotel here," said Jack. "Several men entered one of our rooms and my father was knocked down from behind, and while he was unconscious the men took the papers and ran away. They were papers relating to the Lorimer Spell claim."

"Then tell your father that Corporal John Dunning, who is stopping at O'Brian's Hotel, has them and will give them up to him just as soon as he can prove his property," said the ex-soldier, as he placed the documents in an inside pocket.

By this time two under-sheriffs had arrived on the scene, and they were wanting to know if their services were required. Tate, Jackson, and one or two others, for purely personal reasons, were in favor of hushing the matter up, but not so Corporal Dunning or the Rover boys.

"If he is the man who knocked my father down and robbed him, I want him arrested," declared Jack.

"He ought to be arrested if he did anything like that," acquiesced Dunning. "I'm through with him! No more work for me at his place!"

"If you want another job I guess my father's foreman, Nick Ogilvie, will be glad to take you on," answered Jack quickly. "You know, my dad is an ex-service man, too. And so are my cousins' fathers," he added, motioning to the other boys.

Carson Davenport blustered and tried to protest, and so did Tate and Jackson. But it was all of no avail, and in the end the oil well promoter was marched off by the under-sheriffs to the local lockup. Then Tate and Jackson hurried away, looking anything but pleased.

"If he's exposed, he'll expose us too," said Tate sourly.

"Right you are, Jake," answered Jackson. "Maybe we'd better clear out."

And they did, the next day. They tried to get hold of some of the funds of the oil company, but Dunning and others were on guard, so this little plan was frustrated.

Of course Dick Rover was astonished when the boys burst in on him with their story. He quickly sought out Dunning and proved to the satisfaction of that individual that the documents taken from Davenport were his property. Then Davenport was put through the "third degree," as it is called by the authorities, and finally broke down and admitted that he, Tate, and Jackson had committed the assault and theft, and that he had likewise tried to abscond with the remaining funds of his new oil company. As a result of all this he was later sentenced to a term of years in prison. About three months later still Tate and Jackson were caught, and also made to do time at hard labor.

With Davenport, Tate and Jackson out of it, the management of the new oil company fell upon Gabe Werner's father. Mr. Werner went ahead with the two wells as planned by the others, and in them sunk not only a large amount of his own funds, but also funds belonging to the Martells and Browns. But in the end these wells proved to be little better than dry holes, so all of the money was lost.

"It's a terrible blow for all three families," said Dick Rover, when this occurred. "It will make Mr. Werner quite a poor man."

"Well, I don't particularly wish them any hard luck," remarked Andy. "Just the same, I guess Nappy, Slugger and Gabe got what was coming to them."

On the day following the arrest of Davenport the first of the wells on the Franklin farm was shot off. It proved to be an immense success, the flood of oil carrying away almost everything before it.

"Jumping toothpicks!" exclaimed Randy, when the excitement was over. "Nick Ogilvie says she will go six thousand barrels a day!"

"Just to think of it!" cried Jack, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "Six thousand barrels! Isn't it wonderful? Six thousand barrels at two dollars and a half a barrel amounts to fifteen thousand dollars! Why, it's a fortune and more!"

"We'll all be rich! We'll all be rich!" sang out Andy, and, grabbing his brother, both set up a wild dance, knocking over the chairs as they did so.

It was certainly a gala event, and the Rovers lost no time in telegraphing the news to the folks in New York and also to a number of their friends. Then preparations were made to bring in the second well, and this proved almost as good as the first, running between four and five thousand barrels per day at first, and then settling down to fifteen hundred, while the first well for a long while never ran below twenty-five hundred.

"They sure are a pair of peaches!" declared Dunning, who had come to work for The Rover Oil Company. "A pair of peaches, as good as any in this district."

"Do you know, I can scarcely believe it's true," said Phil Franklin to the Rover boys. "Why, my father will have more money than he ever dreamed of."

"We're as glad as you are, Phil," declared Jack. "Glad on your account as well as our own. Now maybe you can go to Colby Hall with us."

"Say, that would be immense!" exclaimed Phil with pleasure.

And how Phil Franklin went that Fall with the Rovers to Colby Hall will be related in a new volume, to be entitled, "The Rover Boys at Big Horn Ranch; or, The Cowboys' Double Round-Up." In that book we shall learn more concerning the doings of Jack and his cousins, and also learn the particulars of a most remarkable trip to the far West.

Two weeks after the coming in of the first well the four Rover boys returned to their homes in New York City. There an agreeable surprise awaited them. Gif and Spouter had come down from Lake George to pay them a visit.

"Say, this is just all right!" cried Jack, as the lads shook hands all around.

"There is another surprise coming this evening," said Mary. "But we're not going to tell you what it is."

That surprise proved to be the coming of Ruth and May. As yet Ruth had to wear dark glasses, but she said that the eye specialist had told her that these could be discarded in a week or two.

"You don't know how thankful I am that your eyes are coming around all right," said Jack, as he caught both her hands. "It's the best news in the world, Ruth—far better than that big oil well coming in on our place in Texas."

"I am thankful, too, Jack," she answered. "And doubly thankful that you haven't had to go through what I did with your eyes."

"I guess Gabe Werner has got his deserts," put in Randy. "His father is sinking all his money in those good-for-nothing wells on the Spell claim."

That night the young folks had something of a party, and it is perhaps needless to say that every one of them enjoyed it thoroughly. Ruth, of course, had to be careful of herself, and could not dance, but Jack gave her a good deal of his company, and with this she seemed quite content.

Then followed a week or more in which the young folks went out on numerous outings, both in the city and elsewhere. Then all motored up to Valley Brook Farm, there to spend some time with Grandfather Rover and Aunt Martha and Uncle Randolph before returning to school.

"Well, it's certainly been a great Summer, after all!" remarked Fred.

"It sure has!" returned Andy.

"And we got quite a lot of fun out of it," added his twin.

"Fun, and a good deal of information," said Jack. "It certainly paid us to visit The Land of Luck."

THE END



BOOKS BY ARTHUR M. WINFIELD

(Edward Stratemeyer)

THE FIRST ROVER BOYS SERIES

THE ROVER BOYS AT SCHOOL

THE ROVER BOYS ON THE OCEAN

THE ROVER BOYS IN THE JUNGLE

THE ROVER BOYS OUT WEST

THE ROVER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES

THE ROVER BOYS IN THE MOUNTAINS

THE ROVER BOYS IN CAMP

THE ROVER BOYS ON LAND AND SEA

THE ROVER BOYS ON THE RIVER

THE ROVER BOYS ON THE PLAINS

THE ROVER BOYS IN SOUTHERN WATERS

THE ROVER BOYS ON THE FARM

THE ROVER BOYS ON TREASURE ISLE

THE ROVER BOYS AT COLLEGE

THE ROVER BOYS DOWN EAST

THE ROVER BOYS IN THE AIR

THE ROVER BOYS IN NEW YORK

THE ROVER BOYS IN ALASKA

THE ROVER BOYS IN BUSINESS

THE ROVER BOYS ON A TOUR

* * * * *

THE SECOND ROVER BOYS SERIES

THE ROVER BOYS AT COLBY HALL

THE ROVER BOYS ON SNOWSHOE ISLAND

THE ROVER BOYS UNDER CANVAS

THE ROVER BOYS ON A HUNT

THE ROVER BOYS IN THE LAND OF LUCK

* * * * *

THE PUTNAM HALL SERIES

THE PUTNAM HALL CADETS

THE PUTNAM HALL RIVALS

THE PUTNAM HALL CHAMPIONS

THE PUTNAM HALL REBELLION

THE PUTNAM HALL ENCAMPMENT

THE PUTNAM HALL MYSTERY



By JAMES CODY FERRIS

WESTERN STORIES FOR BOYS

Each Volume Complete in Itself.

Thrilling tales of the great west, told primarily for boys but which will be read by all who love mystery, rapid action, and adventures in the great open spaces.

The Manly boys, Roy and Teddy, are the sons of an old ranchman, the owner of many thousands of heads of cattle. The lads know how to ride, how to shoot, and how to take care of themselves under any and all circumstances.

The cowboys of the X Bar X Ranch are real cowboys, on the job when required, but full of fun and daring—a bunch any reader will be delighted to know.

THE X BAR X BOYS ON THE RANCH THE X BAR X BOYS IN THUNDER CANYON THE X BAR X BOYS ON WHIRLPOOL RIVER THE X BAR X BOYS ON BIG BISON TRAIL THE X BAR X BOYS AT THE ROUND-UP THE X BAR X BOYS AT NUGGET CAMP THE X BAR X BOYS AT RUSTLER'S GAP THE X BAR X BOYS AT GRIZZLY PASS THE X BAR X BOYS LOST IN THE ROCKIES THE X BAR X BOYS RIDING FOR LIFE THE X BAR X BOYS IN SMOKY VALLEY THE X BAR X BOYS AT COPPERHEAD GULCH THE X BAR X BOYS BRANDING THE WILD HERD



By FRANKLIN W. DIXON

THE HARDY BOYS SERIES

Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself

The Hardy Boys are sons of a celebrated American detective, and during vacations and their off time from school they help their father by hunting down clues themselves.

THE TOWER TREASURE—A dying criminal confessed that his loot had been secreted "in the tower." It remained for the Hardy Boys to clear up the mystery.