hing doing on thirty-five, and
from the chaparral emerged muddy motor cars bringing scouts,
neighboring lease owners, and even the members of a near-by casing crew.

Supper was a jumpy meal, and nobody had much to say, Allie Briskow
least of all. She was silent, intense; she curtly refused Buddy's offer
to send her home, and when the meal was over she followed Gray back to
the derrick. He was on edge, of course. It seemed to him that every
blow of that bit was struck upon his naked nerves, for he had a deep
conviction that this was to prove the night of his life, and the strain
of waiting was becoming onerous. This well meant so much. Ten thousand
barrels, fifteen, five--even one thousand; it mattered little how heavy
the flow, for a good-paying well would see him through his immediate
troubles. And this was a well of some sort, or else indications meant
nothing and everybody was greatly mistaken. Of course, a big well,
something to create a furor--that was what he needed, for that not only
would bridge his financial crisis, but also it would mean a frenzy of
quick drilling, new wells crowded close together, hundreds of thousands
of dollars poured into the earth, and the Nelsons couldn't stand that.
It would break them--break them, and he would taste the full sweetness
of revenge. Oh, he had waited long! Nor was that all. Once he had Henry
Nelson down, and his foot on the fellow's throat, he'd have something
to say to Barbara Parker. He could say it then and look her in the
eyes. He wished she was here to-night while he stood on the top of the
world. Ten thousand barrels! Twenty thousand! Twenty-thousand-barrel
gushers were not unknown. A well like that would mean a fortune every
day. But why didn't it start?

They were bailing again and curiosity drew the owner in upon the
derrick floor. This time the flow might begin; at any moment now oil
might come with the water. There is some danger in standing close to a
well during this bailing process, but Gray was like a bit of iron in
the field of a magnet; spellbound, he watched the cable as it ran
smoothly off the drum, flowed up over the crown block and down into the
casing mouth. That heavy, torpedolike weight on the end of the line was
dropping almost half a mile. Up it came swiftly, as if greased; up, up,
until it emerged into the glare of the incandescent overhead and hung
there dripping. It was swung aside and lowered, and out gushed its
muddy contents.

Water! Bla