Wharton lighted a fresh cigar and turned toward Spurrier.
“Mr. Spurrier here, is a man you all know and trust——” he hazarded. “I understand that he’s seen oil fields in the West and Mexico. I wonder what he thinks about it all.”
On the dark porch Spurrier looked at his visitor for a few minutes in silence and his first reply was a quiet question.
“Did I tell you I’d seen oil fields in operation?” he inquired, and Wharton stammered a little.
“I was under that impression,” he said. “Possibly I am wrong.”
“No—you are right enough,” answered the other evenly. “I just didn’t remember mentioning it. What is your question exactly?”
“If I have a hunch that oil holds a future here and am willing to back that hunch, don’t you think I am acting wisely to do it?”
The host sat silent while he seemed to weigh the question with judicial deliberation, and during the pause he realized that the little group of men were waiting intently for his utterance as for the voice of the Delphic oracle.
“I have seen oil operation and oil development,” he said at last. “I have lived here for some time and know the history of the former boom, but I have not bought a foot of ground. That ought to make my opinion clear.”
“Then you don’t believe in the future?”