Jack Ranger's Western Trip Part 25

"I'll bring the wagon right around," said the shooter. "Wait here."

In a few minutes he reappeared with a big two horse vehicle, containing two wide seats.

"Get aboard!" he called, and the boys and Mr. Post scrambled up. The horses started off slowly, Mr. Baker driving, and they turned from the single street of the little village and emerged into a country road.

Arriving at the well which was to be shot the boys saw a number of men. They had just finished using the borer, and had gone down a number of hundred feet without striking oil. It was, therefore, decided to "shoot it," that is, tin cylinders, containing in all about two hundred pounds of nitro-glycerine, were to be lowered into the hole, one on top of the other. Then a heavy cylindrical weight was to be dropped down on them. The concussion would set off the explosive.

The powerful stuff, it was expected, would blow a hole down through the sand and rock, and release the imprisoned oil.

Mr. Baker lost no time in getting to work. Carefully as though he was handling eggs, he lowered the tins of nitro-glycerine into the deep but narrow hole. The boys, as well as Mr. Post and the workmen, had moved a safe distance away. The final arrangements were made, and then all was in readiness for dropping the "go-devil," as it is termed.

Mr. Baker gave a last look around to see that all were far enough back. Then, with a wave of his hand he stooped over the hole. The next instant he was running like a deer.

"He's dropped it!" exclaimed Mr. Post. "Watch it now!"

It seemed as if the running man would never get to a place of safety.

The boys watched with their hearts in their mouths.

Suddenly there sounded a subdued roar. Then came a curious trembling of the earth, a shaking of the solid ground. Two seconds later there spouted from the hole a column of black liquid that seemed to envelope the derrick which had not been taken down. At the same time there was a roaring, whistling noise.

Suddenly Mr. Post, who was watching the spouting well, shouted:

"Run boys! Run for your lives! Follow me!"

CHAPTER XVI

MR. POST'S ADVENTURE

For an instant Jack Ranger and his two comrades did not realize what Mr. Post was saying. They could see no danger near them.

"What's the matter?" asked Nat.

"Don't stop to ask questions! Run! Run! Run!" yelled the miner.

The boys needed no further urging, but set off at top speed after Mr.

Post. He halted his run to allow the boys to catch up to him. Then, as he gave a glance backward, he yelled:

"Too late! Duck!"

The boys found themselves being pushed forward. They stumbled and fell, and it seemed as if some heavy weight toppled on top of them.

Then came an explosion that sounded like a thirteen-inch gun being set off close to their ears.

They were stunned by the shock and frightened half out of their wits by the unknown terror. An instant later it was as if the sky was raining gravel, stones and sand.

"You can get up now," Jack heard Mr. Post saying. "That was about as narrow a squeak as I ever had, and I've been in some pretty tight places."

"What's it all about?" asked John Smith, as he rose and began brushing the dirt from his hair.

"That's what I want to know," put in Jack.

"Snooping sand fleas! But I feel as if I had been digging a tunnel!"

cried Nat.

"Mighty lucky you didn't get blown down into one, or an oil hole,"

said Mr. Post.

"Anybody hurt?" asked Mr. Baker, running up at that moment. "My! I thought you'd all be killed!"

"More good luck than good management that we weren't," replied the miner. "How could you do it, Jim?"

"First time I ever was so careless," replied the well-shooter. "You can bet it'll never happen again."

"What was it?" asked Nat.

"Just an explosion of about twenty pounds of nitro-glycerine about as close to us as I ever care to have it," said Mr. Post.

"Yes, and if it hadn't been for Josh, I don't know where you boys would be now," put in Mr. Baker. "He saved your lives, all right.

That's what he did."

"It wasn't anything," the miner interposed. "You see." he went on, "Jim sort of got careless and left one of his cans of nitro-glycerine lying on the ground. I didn't notice it, and I guess he didn't either, until he shot the well. Then, when I saw the shower of rock and stones, shooting up with the oil, and bearing right over toward where the can of juice lay, I figured out there was going to be trouble. That's why I yelled to you to run.

"I knew if any stones fell and hit that can we had a first-cla.s.s pa.s.sage to kingdom come all bought and paid for, with through tickets. I could see a lot of stones hurling up in the air, and I knew, there wasn't anything to stop them from coming down. And the majority of them were headed right for that can of death and destruction."

"That's all right, as far as it goes," said Mr. Baker, when the miner had ceased. "But he hasn't told you all. When Josh saw there was going to be an eruption, then and there, for one big stone was almost on top of the can, he just shoved you boys ahead of him, and then fell on you to shield you with his body. That's what I call being a hero."

"Hi! You drop that!" exclaimed Mr. Post, making a grab for his old friend. "I didn't do any more than any one would have done. It was all your fault, anyhow, Jim Baker."

"I know it was," admitted Mr. Baker, in contrite tones. "But that don't alter what I said, Josh."

"Well if I ever hear you making any remarks about it, I'll inform the oil well authorities how careless you're getting and you'll lose your job," put in the miner. "Now I reckon you boys have seen enough for one day."

"Well, I guess we have," said Jack. "Besides our train will leave pretty soon."

By this time quite a number of oil workers had gathered around. There was considerable excitement, as it had been rumored a number were killed. As soon as matters quieted down men began attending to the oil well, which was spouting away at a lively rate, the thick oil running in many directions.

The hole was piped, and then the stream of crude petroleum was turned into a channel whence it flowed into a reservoir. It had been a successful shooting.

As they walked back to the wagon, having brushed the dirt from their clothes, the boys saw a big hole in the ground, not far from where Mr. Post had protected them from injury by sending them on the run out of danger.

"What did that come from?" asked Nat.

"Nitro-glycerine," replied Mr. Baker. "The juice is powerful stuff."

The boys agreed with him.