as the choicest medium of
sightseeing.

"Well, I'd like to ride," declared Bob when she sought his opinion.
"I've always wanted to. But I don't intend to see the sights,
altogether, Betty. I want to find my aunts, and then, if possible,
I'd like to get a job. There must be plenty for a boy to do out
here."

"But you've been working all summer," protested Betty. "You're as
thin as a rail now. I know Uncle Dick won't let you go to work. Why,
Bob, I counted on your going around with me! We can have such fun
together."

"Well, of course, there will be lots of odd hours," Bob comforted
her. "I don't intend to borrow any more money, Betty, that's flat.
And if I don't get my share in the farm, that is, if it proves my
mother never had any sisters and never was entitled to a share of
anything, I don't intend to let that be the end of my ambitions. I'm
going to school, if it takes an arm!"

Betty gazed at him respectfully. Bob, when in earnest, was a very
convincing talker. She wondered for a moment what he would be when he
grew up.

"We're coming into Flame City," he warned her before she could put
this thought into words. "Tip your hat straight, Betsey, and take
the camera. I can manage both bags."

"Oh, I hope Uncle Dick will meet us!" Betty was so excited she bumped
her nose against the glass trying to see out of the window. "Look,
Bob, just see those derricks! This is surely an oil town!"

The brakes went down, and the brakeman at the end of the car flung
the door open.

"Flame City!" he shouted. "All out for Flame City!"

CHAPTER VIII

FLAME CITY

Bob and Betty descended the steps and found themselves on a rough
platform with an unpainted shelter in the center that evidently did
duty as a station. There were a few straggling loungers about, a team
or two backed up to the platform, and a small automobile of the
runabout type, red with rust.

"Well, bless her heart, how she's grown!" cried a cordial voice, and
Mr. Richard Gordon had Betty in his arms.

"Uncle Dick! You don't know how glad I am to see you!" Betty hugged
him tight, thankful that the worry and anxiety and uncertainty of the
last few weeks, while she had waited in Washington to hear from him,
was at last over. "How tanned you are!" she added.

"Oh, I'm a regular Indian," was the laughing response. "This must be
Bob? Glad to see you, my boy. I feel that I already know you."

He and Bob shook hands heartily. Mr. Gordon was tall and m