Bud had made an unfortunate choice of punishment, for his words carried a suggestion to Bob. Mail and express was still being unloaded, and beside the track was a large puddle of oily, dirty water apparently from a leaky pipe, for there were no indications of a recent rain.
With a swift spring, Bob was on his feet beside the surprised Bud, and, seizing him, whirled him sharply about. Then with a strong push he sent him flat into the puddle.
Sputtering, gasping, and actually crying with rage, the bully stumbled to his feet and charged blindly for Bob. That agile youth had turned and dashed for the train, which was now slowly moving. He caught the steps of the baggage car and drew himself up. Once on the platform he turned to wave to Mr. Davis, but that good citizen was holding back the foaming Bud from dashing himself against the wheels and did not see Bob’s farewell.
“Whew!” gasped Bob, making his way to Betty, after going through an apparently endless number of cars, “our Western adventures begin with a rush, don’t they? I’m hoping Flame City will be peaceful, for I’ve had enough excitement to last me a week.”
“I wish Mr. Davis lived in Flame City,” said Betty warmly. “I never knew any one to be kinder. Imagine all the trouble he took for you, Bob.”
Bob agreed that the groceryman was a living example of the Golden Rule, and then the sight of oil derricks in the distance changed the trend of their thoughts.
“Where do you suppose those two sharpers—what were their names?—could have gone?” said Betty. “Seems to me, there are a lot of unpleasant people out here, after all.”
“You mean Blosser and Fluss,” replied Bob. “I don’t know where they went, but I’m certain they are not up to anything good. Still, it isn’t fair to say we’ve come in contact with a lot of unpleasant people, Betty. All new developments have to fight against the undesirable element, Mr. Littell says. You see, the prospect of making money would naturally attract them, and that, coupled with the possibility of meeting trusting and ignorant souls who have a little and want to make more, draws the crooks. It has always been that way. Haven’t you read about the things that happened in California when there was the rush of gold seekers?”
Betty was not especially interested in the gold seekers, but the glimpses she had had of the oil industry fascinated her. She hoped that her Uncle Dick would have time to take them around, and she was divided between an automobile and a horse as the choicest medium of sightseeing.