The roar of the gusher had been heard for miles around, and in a few hours people were coming from every direction to view the new “strike.” Automobiles, wagons, and buggies came in a constant stream to the Goby farmhouse, and thence to the scene of the drilling. Veteran oil men were amazed to find the new well already capped, and had it not been for the pools of petroleum and the dripping trees in the vicinity, they would have doubted that oil had really been struck.
Usually when oil is struck a week or more 13 spent in designing and making a capping device, while the oil runs to waste, or, at best, is partially reclaimed by pumping it out of the hollows where it has collected. Tom had steered clear of this folly, and when the emergency came he was properly equipped to meet it.
The doubts of the visitors were soon dissipated, especially after they viewed the pressure gauge, which now indicated nine hundred and seventy-five pounds to the square inch.
“Can she stand it?” was the question on every lip.
Tom himself was somewhat worried over this mounting pressure, as he knew that if it kept increasing indefinitely no mechanism could withstand its force. But the pressure never went higher than nine hundred and seventy-eight pounds, and when they later got the well to delivering oil regularly, it dropped somewhat.
The news of the strike soon spread beyond the neighboring towns, got into the papers, and became a subject of nation-wide interest. Newspapers published front-page stories of the new gusher, and in a few days there was a rush of speculators and “wildcatters” from all over the country. There were also many representatives and buyers from big oil companies, who were anxious to buy the Goby farm at almost any figure, and also the adjoining land.
Tom, Mr. Damon and Ned, however, had not been idle in the days following the strike, and they had quietly bought up large tracts of land, on most of which they had had options before oil was discovered. They sold out a few of the smaller of these holdings, and received enough from them to pay all the cost of the drilling and leave a handsome sum besides.
One day a keen-eyed business man separated himself from the group of people who were usually to be found about the well, drawn there by the fascination that always attaches to an oil strike, and introduced himself to Tom. The card he tendered showed that he was the Texas representative of one of the biggest oil companies in the country.
“Struck it rich, I see,” he remarked, with a smile. “From the way that well came in it promises to be one of the biggest gushers in this section. Let’s see, how long have you been digging?”
Tom mentioned the date on which he and his companions had started work.