Part 11 (1/2)
But when they got on the outside, followed by several of the members of the company, they saw no signs of anything wrong. There was no other train in sight, so there could have been no collision, and their own train was safely on the track. Off to one side, however, gathered about a tall structure of wood, was a knot of people.
”What's the matter?” asked Russ of one of the trainmen.
”They're going to shoot an oil well over there,” was the answer, ”and it's so close to the track that they signalled us to stop.”
”Why didn't they wait until we got past?” asked Mr. DeVere who, with his daughters, had gone out to see what caused the delay.
”Why, they had already lowered the charge of nitro-glycerine into the well,” the brakeman explained, ”and something has gone wrong. The shot didn't go off, and they're afraid it may at any minute. So they're holding us back a little while.”
”Is that an oil well?” asked Alice, pointing to the tall, wooden structure.
”That's the derrick, by which the drill is worked--yes, Miss,” the brakeman said. ”They bore down through the sand and rock until they think they're close to the oil. Then they blow out what rock and earth remains, with nitro-glycerine. The well may be a 'spouter,' or they may have to pump. Can't tell until after they fire the shot. I guess she's going off!” he added quickly. ”Look at 'em run!”
”I've got my idea!” exclaimed Mr. Pertell. ”We'll have a film of boring for oil. That will fit in well with my big drama. Get the company together, Pop,” he said to the property man. ”And, Russ, get ready to film the shooting of the oil well.”
CHAPTER IX
THE RIVALS
Though there was a rush of spectators away from the oil well it appeared to be a false alarm, for nothing happened, and Mr. Pertell, who was afraid the well would ”spout” before he could get his company of players on the scene, was relieved when he heard one of the workmen call:
”False alarm. She isn't going off yet.”
”Now hurry and get around the well,” urged the manager. ”I want some of you grouped near it when the oil spouts up.”
”Won't it be dangerous?” asked Mr. Sneed. ”I don't want to be blown up by nitro-glycerine.”
”You needn't get too close,” returned Mr. Pertell. ”I just want the spouting well as a background.”
”It will be all right if you keep about thirty feet back,” said one of the well borers.
”How do you shoot a well?” asked Paul, while Russ was getting ready his camera.
”By using nitro-glycerine,” was the answer. ”This explosive comes in tin cans, about ten feet long and about five inches in diameter. We lower these cannisters down into the iron pipe that extends to the bottom of the well.”
”How deep?” queried Alice.
”Oh, a well may run anywhere from three hundred to three thousand feet, or even more. This one is about one thousand. We have about a hundred quarts of nitro-glycerine down in the pipes now; but it hasn't gone off yet.”
”Can you--er--tell me when it _will_ go off?” asked Mr. Sneed, looking about him nervously.
”Any minute, if not sooner,” replied the oil man, with a smile. ”Oh, don't run--you're safe here,” he added, as Mr. Sneed began to move away.
At the same time Claude Towne, the ”swell” of the company, exclaimed:
”I'm not going to stay here and get this new suit spoiled by the oil.”
He was very careful of his attire.
”Oh, the oil won't spray as far as this,” the workman a.s.sured him.