Adventure Magazine Cover — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

170 rigs and a reputation for bringing in any well that had a drop of oil within a mile of it. His trusted partner had succeeded in getting most of the profits by clever trickery, but even so Matt had come out fifteen thou- sand dollars to the good. Now, it seemed, Downs was in a fair way to emerge from his present situation with only two thousand dollars to show for fifteen years of nerve-wracking labor. Brannon’s mind turned to the idea with which he had been toying for several hours. It was a characteristic Brannon conception, born of his freakish sense of humor, his habit of yielding to any impulse, no matter how bizarre—and that streak of iron in him which has been mentioned. Real friendship was rare in his life, and the Downs family had quietly crept into his heart. Retaliation for the episode with Grady that morning played no part in his decision, except as more or less of a joke. The raging Grady and the fracas in the mud appealed strongly to his sense of humor, as did the plan he had in mind for Monday. Everything, including life in general and himself in particular, was a comedy to the flyer. The touch of deadly seriousness lent by Downs’ predicament simply made the humor of the scheme take on an additional and peculiarly exquisite flavor. “You’ve got a gun you could lend me, haven’t your” he asked as they went in. “T want one when I interview Grady about the damages to his boiler.” “Uh-huh.” Downs paused at the door and seemed about to ask a question. Brannon’s query, taken in connection with his vague hints earlier in the evening, were almost enough to make the harassed Texan give tongue to his curiosity. Finally, however, Downs merely whispered a good night and held his peace. fay ON MONDAY, along toward the Ha middle of the morning, Brannon ae was pretending to tinker with his ship, although he had made all repairs the day before. Downs was the only other per- son near the ship, for it was on the Solar Company’s land and the considerable crowd of men who were at the well preferred to stay on Downs acreage rather than have trouble with the high-handed Grady. Brannon had been half-expectant of Adventure trouble with the bull-headed general man- ager himself, but the big Irishman was either too busy on the floor of the derrick to bother with him, or else had decided that he had better not fool with the representa- tive of the government any further. He and Brannon had not met again during the week-end, although Brannon, in pursuance of the scheme he had in mind, had sent a note to Grady informing him that certain papers regarding the damage done to the boiler would be submitted to him for his signature within a few days. The flyer had also called up Slim Evans, back at Donovan Field, and held long con- verse with him. Slim had promised to attend to several matters which would make it possible for Brannon to spend the shortest possible time at Donovan Field before leav- ing for good. Word had gone out the day before that the new boiler would be installed by four or five o’clock Monday morning, so Downs and the flyer had arrived at seven. They were coming out, now. They had the core. The motor was chugging away, and bit by bit the nineteen hundred feet of drill-stem was being drawn out of the hole. As each fourble came clear the crew dis- connected the section and the great travel- ing block, swung from the top of the derrick, carried the length of piping over to one side, where it was piled vertically with its mates. “T guess I’d better crank up and taxi over,’ remarked Brannon. ‘I hope she starts without any trouble.” “Tt’ll be a half-hour or more before they come out with the core, if that’s what you’ve been waiting for,’ Downs told him. The big, placid Southerner was hard put to it to repress his excitement. Of definite information regarding Brannon’s plans he had none. All he knew was that in a mo- ment he was to start for a spot on the road to San Antonio, five miles from Lockville, which Brannon had designated yesterday. The smiling Brannon had absolutely refused to divulge any details whatsoever. “Why lay yourself open to the tempta- tion to commit perjury—a heinous crime,” he had said. ‘“There might be trouble, you know.” Despite all he had at stake, Downs had tried his best to deter Brannon from his scheme, even though he had no definite idea as to what it was. This having been unsuccessful, Downs was now tingling with COmiclboolks C©