"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.