"You are seeing straight enough, Mr. Franklin," answered Fred, as he shook hands first with the father and then the son. "Is your claim around here?"
"No, our claim is some miles from here," answered John Franklin. "It's at a place called Pottown."
"I've heard of that place," said Jack, as he too shook hands, as did the others. "They say there are quite a few oil wells in that neighborhood."
"What have you done about your claim, if I may ask?" questioned Randy.
"Oh, I've got myself all straightened out," said Mr. Franklin, with a broad smile. "You see, when I got down here I played in luck right from the start. Those swindlers had got tired of trying to do something on my farm, and then I ran into an old friend of mine who was a lawyer. He took the matter up for me, and the swindlers got scared and all of them quit the claim over night; so I am now in sole possession."
"And have you struck oil?" asked Jack.
"No, I haven't got that far yet, but I have great hopes of going ahead. You see, I'm handicapped for money. I could get some capitalists interested, but they generally want the lion's share of the proceeds, and that I don't want to give them."
"I don't blame you," said Fred. "You ought to get the most of the money if the oil is found on your land."
"I'm telling dad to take his time," put in Phil Franklin. "The land won't run away, and the more oil wells that are producing around us, the more valuable our place will become."
"But what brought you young fellows down here?" questioned the man. "Are you on a sightseeing tour?"