Adventure Magazine Cover — page 173: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Don’t Swat a Flyer be worth fifty thousand! I’d give a year of my life to land a chunk of it from under Grady’s nose!’ Brannon, ever interested in anything new, had been listening with absorbed atten- tion. They were riding along slowly through the outskirts of town as he asked— “Just what is the core?” “It’s a sample of the pay dirt. You see when they get to this pay dirt, or what should be the pay dirt if there is any, they don’t know how thick the layer is. The deeper they go the more surface there is to draw from—the more oil seeps into the hole and the bigger the well flows. If they get a trifle too deep, into salt water, say, everything is ruined. So when they get down. to where the geological dope says the pay should be, they send a hollow iron pipe with an automatic clamp on the end of it down there and get a sample. They send this to a chemist for analysis. They can tell about how much oil there is in it, and in addition whether it’s a sand or lime formation. Lime usually peters out quickly—sand is what everybody wants. More oil, and longer flow. Sometimes they feel their way down, taking cores several times. At others they take no chances, and bring in the well as soon as the core shows pay. They’ll bring that first core out about Monday morning—as near as I could tell they’ve got the drill stem half- way down now. “Those were scouts I was talking to out there, and they said they were sure they were going down for a core. The rough- necks wouldn’t say a word, although they ' know that all we’ve got to do is stand around until they come out, and we can see whether they took a core or not. They won’t even let any one stand around on the Solar land, watching, half the time. I’m sure they won’t when they bring out the core, but my acreage is only a hundred and fifty feet from the well, so that’s the grandstand. Grady’s gone hog- wild. He thinks he’s the biggest oil man in the country right now, I guess. He used to be a foreman working Springs on some plantation in Mexico. He shows it. He won’t get by—but before he gets taken I’m afraid Pll go down. Have to be satisfied with a couple of thousand—and I’ve in- vested over ten thousand.” They were now on the main street of Lockville. All_the buildings were on one 167 side of the street, facing a discouraged park consisting of sand and gnarled mesquite trees. Beyond this abortive attempt at civic beauty was the railroad, paralleled for several hundred yards by cattle-pens. An arcade covered the sidewalk for its entire -length—a necessary protection for shoppers in Texas. IT BEING Saturday, Lockville was & a live village. Hundreds of Mexi- cans and negroes, arriving by every known method of locomotion from burros to Fords, swarmed over the sidewalks, and the curb was lined with a motley array of rickety wagons, saddle horses, and cars. Brannon could see symptoms of unusual animation which far transcended the Satur- day crowd, however. There were dozens of expensive cars which did not belong in »-ockville, and many men who were plainly strangers standing around the street. Lease-hounds, big company representa- tives, roughnecks and other followers of the elusive boom were on the ground as the time drew near for the first well in a highly regarded location to come in. Of course it was in no sense a boom town, but it was ready to turn into one within twenty-four hours if that crownblock out there should be sprayed with oil. : Brannon, who had been silent as they made their way down the street, finally asked suddenly: “Just what do they do after they bring the core out? With the core itself, I mean. Wrap it up and ship it to their chemist, or can they tell pretty accurately how pros- pects are by just looking it over?” “‘An experienced man can get a good idea as to whether or not oil is there, and often- times what the formation is. Of course, the chemical analysis gives the richness, exact formation in accurate percentage, and all that stuff. I’d give my left arm for just a look at it and a smell of it. There’s Ada on the porch, waving at you.” Brannon returned the greeting as they drew up in front of a big white house with a wide, vine-clad porch. "1 am “not entirely satisfied that I have suitably returned Grady’s advances,” he _ remarked as they got out. ‘For my own satisfaction and the good of his soul, I must mingle with him again.’ . Downs grinned at the placid airman. “You’ve done plenty. It’s my turn.” COmiclbook CO