u are satisfied that Mr. Fitch is all right, Dad, why not have him
make a survey of the Franklin place?" suggested Jack.

"Perhaps I'll do that--after I've had a talk with Franklin," answered
his father.

Dick Rover was not a person to waste time, and he sought out John
Franklin and his son Phil the very next day and had a long talk with the
pair. Then, on the Monday following, he visited the Franklin farm,
taking Nick Ogilvie and two other oil men with him. The boys wished to
go along, but to this Jack's father demurred.

"I don't want too much of a crowd along," he said. "If anything comes of
it you can visit the place later. At present you had better try to amuse
yourselves around the town. And do try to keep out of trouble," he
added, with a smile.

Left to themselves, the four young Rovers visited the railroad station
and then drifted into the shooting gallery. Here they got up a little
contest among themselves, shooting at the longest range target the
gallery afforded. In this contest, which lasted the best part of an
hour, Jack came out ahead, making seventeen bull's-eyes out of a
possible twenty-five. Next to him came Randy with a score of fifteen.

"Say, what kind of a prize do I get?" questioned Andy, who had hit the
bull's-eye but nine times, two less than Fred.

"You get a decorated cabbage head, Andy," replied his twin. "A cabbage
head and two lemons."

"I don't care, I saved the target for the man, anyway," grinned the
fun-loving Rover. "The one Jack shot at is all mussed up." And at this
sally the others had to laugh.

After lunch the boys sat down to write some letters and to read some
newspapers which had just come in. In the news was word of some big oil
well strikes at a place about forty miles distant.

"Gosh! look at this, will you?" cried Fred, pointing to the article.
"Two wells just came in, and each of them good for twelve hundred
barrels of oil a day! Now that's what I call something like!"

"Wouldn't it be glorious if my dad could strike something like that?"

"I wish we could hit half a dozen wells, then our dads could start The
Rover Oil Company. We'd make money hand over fist. Wouldn't that be
grand!"

"You keep on and you'll be dreaming of oil," laughed Jack.

"It certainly is the land of luck," returned Randy.

"It doesn't look like the land of luck for this fellow," remarked Fred,
pointing to a ragged and unkempt individual who had just entered the
reading room of the ho