The Rover Boys in the Land of Luck: or, Stirring Adventures in the Oil Fields

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.