The meeting with so many in town had tired him more than the ride of two hours could have done, and Ralph began to blame himself for having permitted him to stay so long, even though he could hardly have prevented it if he had tried.
But during the ride back, the weary look on the invalid's face disappeared under the refreshing influence of the quiet drive, and by the time they turned into the lane which led to the Simpson farm-house, he looked quite as bright as when he started.
The lane was nearly a quarter of a mile long, and when they first entered it, Ralph was aware that something unusual had occurred, and he trembled lest some accident had happened, but as soon as he could distinguish them more plainly, he understood that the gathering was caused by joy more than sorrow.
Bob, Jim and Dick were standing in front of the house, surrounded by some of the workmen from the well, and Mr. and Mrs. Simpson were hurrying from one to the other, much as if they were serving out refreshments.
"What can be the matter?" asked Ralph, anxiously, as he hurried the horses along. "Do you suppose they have struck oil already?"
"No, that couldn't be possible," replied George. "I rather fancy that Bob and Mr. Simpson are celebrating the happy event of being admitted to the ownership of the well."
Ralph was satisfied that such was the case, and he pulled the horses in, unwilling to arrive at a scene where he feared he might be obliged to listen to thanks for what they had done.
Before many minutes, however, the boys could see that those at the house were shouting to them, and when they arrived within hearing distance, they recognized Bob's voice, as he shouted:
"Bed-rock! bed-rock!"
And then went up a shout from all that was nearly deafening.