run over to the Spell farm?" suggested Jack one day.
"I've been wondering whether they really went ahead or whether it was
only a bluff."

"I don't think it was any bluff," returned Randy. "They were getting in
their machinery just as fast as they could."

If Dick Rover had been present he might have advised against visiting
the Lorimer Spell claim. In a roundabout way he had heard from Carson
Davenport. The oil well promoter had not forgotten how he had been
knocked down, and he had told a number of people that he intended sooner
or later to square accounts with "that fellow from New York."

But Jack's father was not on hand to see them ride away, and so without
giving the matter much more consideration the boys had the driver of the
automobile head towards the place where the encounter between Davenport
and Dick Rover had taken place.

"My gracious! just see how the oil wells are coming in, will you?" cried
Fred, while they were riding along. He pointed to a hillside where two
new wells were at work. "Those weren't here when we went through
before."

"It looks to me as if some of these folks were fairly crazy about oil,"
remarked Randy.

"Well, it's a terrible temptation to get busy when you think that under
your very feet there may be thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of
that stuff," returned Jack.

"What a different place this is from around Colby Hall," commented Fred.

"Yes. And quite different from Valley Brook Farm, too," added Randy.

"What's the matter with comparing it with Riverside Drive?" questioned
Andy, with a grin. "Don't you see the Hudson River over there with the
stately warships?" and as he spoke he pointed to a pond of water, the
surface of which was black with oil and on which floated several logs.

"In one way I think the old fellow I was talking with last night was
right," declared Jack. "He said that the oil had spoiled the whole
country. Just look around, will you? Everything is black and greasy with
oil."

"Well, they say 'dirty work makes clean money,'" cried Randy. "And I
guess a lot of these men don't care how much they muss up the scenery
and muss up themselves so long as they get good fat bank accounts out of
it."

At length they came in sight of the Lorimer Spell tract, and they were
both surprised and interested at the activity being displayed there. A
gang of at least thirty men were at work, some around a well which was
being sunk and others in erecting severa