feller looked up at me and said: 'This ain't bad. You'd ought to
see my brother. I'm standing on his shoulders!'"

The chauffeur laughed loudly at his own humor. "_Some_ country, I call
it! But the sun's out, so it will be blowing sand to-morrow."

When Burkburnett had been left behind, another and a vaster island of
derricks came into view. It marked the Burk-Waggoner pool, part of the
Northwest Extension, so called.

The car was waiting its turn to cross a tiny toll bridge spanning a
sluggish creek, the bed of which ran seepage oil from the wells beyond,
when the driver grumbled aloud:

"Four bits to cross a forty-foot bridge. There's a graft for you! One
old nester above here tore a hole in his fence opposite a wet place in
the road and charged us half a dollar to drive through his pasture. But
it was cheaper than getting stuck. He had to carry his coin home in an
oat sack. After a few weeks somebody got to wondering why that spot
never dried out, and, come to investigate, wha' d'you think?"

"I seldom think when I am being entertained," his passenger declared.

"Well, that poor stupid had dammed the creek, and every night he shut
the gate and flooded his road."

If the clustered derricks of the town-site pool were impressive, there
was something positively dramatic about the Extension. Burkburnett had
been laid out in lots and blocks, and the drilling had followed some
sort of orderly system; but here were no streets, no visible plan. This
had been a wheat field, and as well after well had come in, derricks,
drilling rigs, buildings, tanks, piles of timber, and casing had been
laid down with complete disregard of all save the owner's convenience.
Overnight new pipe lines were being laid, for hours counted here and
the crude had to find outlet--fuel had to be brought in. These pipe
lines were never buried, and in consequence the ceaseless flow of
traffic was forever forced to seek new channels. The place became a
bewildering maze through which teams floundered and motor vehicles
plunged at random.

Towns had sprung up, for this army of workers was isolated in a sea of
mud, but whereas "Burk" was more or less permanent, Newtown, Bradley's
Corners, Bridgetown, were cities of canvas, boards, and corrugated
iron. By day they were mean, filthy, grotesque; by night they became
incandescent, for every derrick was strung with lights, and the surplus
supply of gas was burned in torches to prevent it from accumulating