“I know Sandy, and I know his dad,” Hall answered. “Also, his bonus is going to be twenty shares of stock. I’ll vouch for him.” He slapped the surprised boy on the back and added, “All right, gang. Back to work. We’ll pull the string and get the well cemented and closed in. Then we’ll shut down here till I get that bank loan arranged. Some of you have vacations coming. Take them now. Don will put the rest of you to work running surveys and drilling test wells on our downriver lease. Tell any snoopers that John Hall ran out of cash—which is no lie. I closed out my balance at Farmington last week so I could meet the payroll!”
After the drillpipe was withdrawn and stacked, the combined crews spent the rest of the day mixing an untold number of bags of cement with water. This mixture was pumped down the well to replace the mud that had filled it to the brim.
Once, when they heard a plane approaching, most of the men faded into the trailers while the others tried to look as unbusy as possible. The ship was Cavanaugh’s Bonanza! It circled twice and roared away.
When Salmon estimated that the hole was full of cement, the diesel began pumping mud again. This forced the cement out of the well and up to the surface between the earth walls and the heavy steel casing inside which the drillpipe had rotated.
“How do you ever reach the oil again?” Sandy asked when the operation was completed.
“Easy.” Ralph yawned tiredly. “After the cement has hardened, we’ll pump out the mud. That will leave a cement plug twenty feet or so thick in the well bottom to keep the pressure under control. When we want to start producing, we just drill through the plug and away we go. Say, why don’t you go to bed instead of asking foolish questions? You look as if you had been dragged through a dustbin.”
“I was just thinking, Ralph. Since we’ll be having some time off, why don’t we visit Miss Gonzales’ school?”
“You go,” yawned the driller. “I’ve got to get this well capped good and tight tomorrow and then drive to Farmington and try to rent a portable test rig—on the cuff. I’m going to act so poor-boyish that it will break your heart. Casehardened drillers will weep in their beer when they hear my tale of woe.”
“Is that exactly honest?” Sandy tried to smooth down his cement-whitened cowlick, as he always did when he was thinking hard. “I mean—we have struck oil.”
“We’ll have struck it for somebody else’s benefit if we don’t play our cards close to our chests and keep a close guard over our well and our tongues.” Ralph looked at him shrewdly. “You’ll see what I mean in a day or two. And here’s some good advice: Watch your step, Sandy. There are some mighty curly wolves in this oil game. Don’t try playing Red Riding Hood with them.”