Tom Swift and his great oil gusher

by Victor Appleton

Now the time had come when his mechanism was to be put to the test. The riggers soon had the valve and clamping framework as close to the well as they could get, also the sliding carriage, with its rails bolted to concrete foundations that had been prepared for it previously. Everything was now ready for the test, and in feverish excitement they prepared to move the valve over the well.

“Steady, men, steady!” shouted Tom.

The spray of oil and vapor was so dense near the well that it was impossible to get closer than about twenty-five feet and breathe. As it was, every man of the party was soaked and drenched with the clinging oil. Their clothes hung limply about them, and were so saturated and heavy that it was difficult for them even to move.

“Keep your heads, boys,” cautioned Tom, who was now as cool and self-possessed as ever.

Tom had foreseen that his apparatus would have to be worked at some distance from the well, and he had provided a long handle made of piping, which was connected to the screw mechanism. Now the foreman and several of his men began to turn the screw, and the valve moved slowly toward the roaring, spouting stream of oil.

It seemed almost incredible that any mechanism devised by man could withstand that tremendous force. Some of the men actually expected to see the heavy steel castings bent and broken as easily as a man would snap a stick across his knee. But Tom’s designing had been thorough, and he had personally superintended the construction of the mechanism from his plans. Everything was extra heavy and of the best obtainable quality, as it had need to be for such an undertaking as this. When the valve reached the casing, it held true to its place, and the shaft of oil was diverted slightly to one side. The men held their breath as with anxious eyes they followed the progress of the valve across the casing.

Slowly but steadily the drilling crew turned at the screw, slowly the valve moved onward over the casing. The stream of oil roared and hissed as it writhed and twisted about this obstacle, and seemed to be trying to tear it bodily from its anchors. A heavy spray filled the air, and although the men at the screw were half-browned in oil, they stuck gamely to their post.

Farther and farther the column of oil bent, smashing against the steel that barred its path as though determined to destroy it by the force of its mighty onrush. Inexorably the heavy steel carriage, man’s challenge to nature’s might, moved onward, as steady, unhurried, and invincible as fate itself.

Now the column of oil was deflected at an acute angle, farther and farther, until suddenly it divided into two columns, one roaring straight upward again through the valve, while the other was deflected more and more toward the horizontal.

“It’s working all right!” cried Ned exultantly.