Had it been anything of less importance, Tom might have teased her a little before he told her. As it was, he thrust the yellow slip in her hand as soon as he reached her side. She read it eagerly, pressed it to her heart, and then, with a word of thanks, hurried to the house.
“It’s all right, Father!” she cried, as she burst! into the living room, where the blind man was eagerly awaiting her. “Listen to this!” And with hands that trembled so that she could hardly hold the paper she read:
“Young Goby entirely recovered. Body and mind in perfect condition. Will leave the hospital in a day or two and go directly to his father’s home.
“Sherwood.”
The blind man opened his arms and Carol sank into them, father and daughter weeping happy tears together.
Tom had not followed Carol, for he knew that just then she wanted no other company than her father. He hunted up Ned and Mr. Damon and imparted the good news to them, and they had a little jubilee of their own.
At the well, however, things were not going so happily. The new supply of pipe and couplings had arrived, and Tom had started the drill again, but still they seemed as far as ever from oil. For two days more the drill aid steadily down, and length after length of pipe was engulfed in the deepening hole. They had now penetrated the earth’s crust to a distance of 1,300 feet without a sign of oil, and any one with less than Tom’s indomitable courage would have quit the seemingly hopeless struggle in weariness and disgust. But Tom was not yet ready to acknowledge himself beaten.
“We’ll go down another hundred feet,” he said, while Mr. Damon shook his head and even Ned looked gloomy and downcast. “I know we can’t go on forever, and if we don’t strike oil in the next hundred feet I’ll own up that we’re beaten and we’ll have to make the best of it. Fourteen hundred feet will be our limit. And I guess that won’t be so bad, even if we don’t reach oil. We can say we died game, anyway.”
“Why, bless my eyes and ears, Tom Swift, I must say I have more admiration for your grit than for your judgment,” cried Mr. Damon.
“If he had taken my advice and stopped two weeks ago, think of all the money we’d have saved, not to mention the time and worry. I think we’re foolish to go another hundred feet,” grumbled Ned.