Every man stood tense, eyes riveted on the valve.
Attached to the lower part of the capping mechanism was a pressure gauge. As the valve closed, the needle of the gauge began creeping steadily around the dial. When the valve was completely closed, the pressure mounted steadily. Five hundred—six—seven hundred pounds to the square inch, and still the needle moved around the dial. When it finally came to rest, it indicated a confined or “rock” pressure in the well of nine hundred and fifty pounds per square inch!
“Will she hold?” asked Ned anxiously.
“Five minutes will tell,” answered Tom.
Tom had designed his capping mechanism with a generous allowance for overload, and he had no fear of failure, but to the others it seemed incredible that anything could withstand such a tremendous pressure. But as the first anxious moments of waiting passed and nothing happened, their tense nerves relaxed and they ventured to draw long breaths again.
Tom and Ned and Mr. Damon shook hands solemnly, and then in turn shook hands with the drilling boss and each member of the crew. Then, as every man was almost exhausted with his strenuous efforts and the well was safely brought in and capped, all work was discontinued for the time.
“Guess we’ll call it a day,” said Tom.
“And the best day’s work you’ve ever done!” exclaimed Ned.
“Bless my shower bath!” cried Mr. Damon. “We’re as black as coal heavers. Better go and clean up. And these clothes of ours are done for.”
“Guess we can afford to buy others now that we’re oil magnates,” chuckled Tom happily.