TIN SPOUT 
 
 HENRY OYEN
 
 TARRANT 
 OF TIN SPOUT 
 
 HENRY OYEN
 
 TARRANT OF 
 TIN SPOUT 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY OYEN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE PLUNDERER, 
 G ASTON OLAF, ETC. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
 Made i the Diked StalM f A-cnc.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922 BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 
 TARRANT OF TIN SPOUT 
 
 2127555
 
 TARRANT OF TIN SPOUT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A VIOLENT spring cloudburst had raised the waters 
 *- * of the Rio Canyada to a degree that threatened the 
 Ft. W. & D. trestle; and as a consequence the passengers 
 on the southward-bound Limited, held for orders, were 
 afforded an opportunity to see the oil town of Tin Spout, 
 Texas. 
 
 In all truth there was not much to see, and little, if any, 
 of that was pleasing to the eye, while most of it was de- 
 pressingly ugly. Tin Spout, the oil hamlet, enhanced the 
 drab Northern Texas landscape no more than it had done 
 in the very recently passed day when it was Tin Spout, the 
 cattle town. The first impression that one gained was 
 that of a community totally and hopelessly sunken in a 
 morass of mud. At present it was a reddish, sticky kind 
 of mud which seemed to brand all things buildings, 
 motor cars, horses and men that came in contact with 
 it, but in dry weather the mud dried up and the wind 
 blew it about, so the buildings of Tin Spout, above the 
 mud splashings, had taken upon themselves a coating of 
 heavy brown dust. 
 
 The buildings could not be said to add greatly to the 
 scene. They were in the main unpainted board shacks 
 of a single story in height, fronting upon the short stretch 
 of churned-up and rutted mud road along the railroad 
 
 7
 
 8 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 track which represented Tin Spout's main street. The oil 
 derricks in the field about the town towered high above 
 the squalid buildings. A few of the derricks were built 
 of new, clean timbers, but the majority of them were 
 black and grimy and soaked inches deep in the oil and 
 mud from the wells. 
 
 A hot spring sun had emerged from the black clouds 
 which had provided the deluge and the damp town steamed 
 uncomfortably. There was a constant chug-chug, chug- 
 chug in the air. It was a lazy, unimpressive sound, and 
 it came from the pumps which, moving up and down 
 interminably above the wells, drew the greasy crude pe- 
 troleum from the depths of the earth. 
 
 In the scant shade offered by the discarded box car 
 which served Tin Spout as a railway station a young man 
 was standing at ease, his thumbs hooked in his belt. He 
 was tall and brown. His apparel proclaimed him a work- 
 ing oilman, a producer, in the fields where the wells are 
 drilled, for he wore the regulation khaki shirt and trousers 
 and high laced boots of his craft. On his head, however, 
 was a sombrero of the large, expensive kind which may 
 be seen offered as second prize at the rodeos in the horse 
 and cattle country. The sombrero gave a clew to the 
 young man's antecedents. No one save an ex-cattleman 
 would have worn such a hat in such an environment. Per- 
 haps the sombrero was even a clew to the true nature of 
 Spence Tarrant; its suggestion was that though the oil- 
 man was dominant there had remained alive within him 
 a trace of the reckless, free rider of the ranges. 
 
 "Wayne," he drawled softly to a nattily dressed young 
 man who came up to him excitedly, "you put your hat on 
 or the sun will get you."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 9 
 
 "Darn the sun!" snapped Wayne. "I've got news, 
 Spence big news million-dollar news for all of us!" 
 
 "You have got oil fever, that's what you've got," said 
 Tarrant, after a moment of scrutiny. "You put on your 
 hat." 
 
 The young man obeyed, only to remove the hat from 
 his head to utilise it as a means of emphasising his gesticu- 
 lations. 
 
 "There's a hundred-million-dollar boom coming to Tin 
 Spout, Spence!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I saw Bodine 
 down at Ranger Falls. Bodine, the Miracle Man, they 
 call him. He has selected this Tin Spout field as the scene 
 of the next big boom. He can bring it here. He will 
 bring it here. Think of it, Spence; a hundred-million- 
 dollar investment proposition! That's his program; told 
 me so himself. And what have little operators like us 
 been doing here? We've got a few little wells on the 
 jack ; we bring in a few more once in a awhile. Barely 
 enough to keep the field going. Yes, sir ! Barely going. 
 The Tin Spout field is on the way to the graveyard; and 
 here Bodine, the Miracle Man, decides to make it boom. 
 I can feel the boom coming, Spence. It's in the air." 
 
 He leaned forward with a fanatical gleam in his eyes. 
 
 "It's the oil age, man ! Look where the price is now. 
 And that's just the beginning. We'll have three dollars 
 high gravity yet. Think of it, Spence, three dollars a 
 barrel at the well ! Oil is the great new force in the world. 
 It's the coming power. Industry will run on it; it will 
 cover the seven seas. The next big war is going to be 
 fought for oil. There'll be another name for it in the 
 history books, but the good, old greasy crude oil will be 
 the real cause. And we're right in the heart of the game.
 
 IO Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 I 
 
 What we've made before won't be chicken feed. A hun- 
 dred-million-dollar oil boom coming right here, and we're 
 going to get our share of it!" 
 
 "Let her come, Wayne," drawled Tarrant. 
 
 "Spence," said the enthusiast earnestly, "did you hit 
 any pay in that new hole of yours?" 
 
 "A trace of it," replied Tarrant. "I am in town now to 
 get Jim Hennessy to come out and shoot her." 
 
 "Yes. And what will it amount to if you do bring in 
 a well?" demanded the other. "A little pumper, on the 
 jack! Practically nothing! Spence, what's the big fea- 
 ture in business to-day? Salesmanship? What's made 
 the big men in this oil game? Drilling holes in the 
 ground? Not on your whiskers! Vision, development, 
 promotion salesmanship ! What's made this country the 
 biggest land on the face of the globe to-day? Adver- 
 tising! What's advertising? Supersalesmanship. Capi- 
 talising your brains. Spence Spence, we've got to quit 
 fooling away our time and capitalise our opportunities. 
 We've got 'em. The boom is coming. We will help it 
 come. How? Organisation. Advertising, propaganda, 
 salesmanship! It's going to make a lot of millionaires. 
 It's going to make us millionaires, and I tell you it's com- 
 ing soon !" 
 
 "All right," drawled Tarrant again, "let her come." 
 
 " 'Let her come !' " mocked Wayne. "Great Scott, 
 Spence, ain't I telling you it's going to be a world beater, 
 a millionaire maker, a a real boom?" 
 
 "Wayne," said Tarrant, "it seems to me that you did 
 sort of appear to be trying to convey that impression." 
 
 "Then why don't you wake up to what it means?"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 1 1 
 
 snapped Wayne. "Why don't you indicate you appre- 
 ciate its significance?" 
 
 Tarrant slowly thrust back his sombrero and turned his 
 weather-browned face toward the speaker. His blue eyes, 
 surprisingly young and fresh in the leathery hardness of 
 his countenance were mirrors of innocence and guileless- 
 ness, and there was even a hint of melancholy in his ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "I thought you knew, Wayne," he said with just a trace 
 of aggrieved surprise in his soft drawl. 
 
 "Knew what?" 
 
 "Why I don't catch the fever like you have done." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Wayne. 
 
 "I am immune," said Tarrant simply. 
 
 "Immune to what?" 
 
 "Oil fever." 
 
 "Yes, you are!" Wayne exclaimed with a laugh. "Now 
 you're talking loose. They don't breed any man born of 
 woman to be immune to that. It hits all that are exposed 
 to it and gets all it hits." 
 
 "Not me," said Tarrant, with a serious shake of the 
 head; "I'm immune. I can handle the stuff and not be 
 affected by it. You'll allow I've been exposed a right 
 smart, won't you, Wayne? And you never saw me run- 
 ning round tearing my shirt, did you ? I'm telling you the 
 reason; I'm immune. I can't catch it. It won't take 
 on me," he concluded gravely. "Sometimes I almost wish 
 it could, but it's something beyond my control. A man 
 can't help how he's bred, can he?" 
 
 "What are you talking about ?" said Wayne in bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "It's a fact," responded Tarrant. "You know my folks
 
 12 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 have been pesticating round this neck of the range for a 
 good many years back?" 
 
 "Yes, and all they got to show for it you could put in 
 your eye," was the reply. 
 
 Tarrant nodded gravely. 
 
 "All they got to show for it I could put in my eye, if 
 that will make you feel any better," he agreed. "But 
 that's how come. I'm immune and can handle oil wells 
 without contracting oil fever. You see, Wayne, my old 
 granddaddy made this neck of the range his particular 
 stamping ground. He was a great old fellow for stray- 
 ing off from the herd all by his lonesome, looking up better 
 hunting grounds and so on, and one fine day when he 
 was up here all alone he got himself cornered by a bunch 
 of Kiowa bucks on the warpath. I reckon the old hombre 
 was quite a handful to handle, because he gave them all 
 the fight they wanted and got away ; but before he did 
 they had done it to him." 
 
 The drawling, serious recital had cast a spell over the 
 listener. 
 
 "Done what?" he demanded. "Scalped him?" 
 
 "If it had only been that!" murmured Tarrant. "No, 
 the old gent kept his hair, but he was out of luck just the 
 same. You know, the Kiowas used to poison their war 
 arrows in those days ; used to dip 'em in a mixture their 
 medicine man cooked up for them. My grandpop got 
 away all right, but before he did those Kiowas had shot 
 him so full of war arrows he came riding home looking 
 like a sage hen that had been caught in a cyclone. But 
 that wasn't the real trouble. The Kiowa medicine man 
 happened to have an off day that day and he didn't have 
 any medicine ready, so he had the bucks dip their arrows
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 13 
 
 in a black slush pool side of a little creek. Wayne, you 
 could never guess what that slush was?" 
 
 "What was it?" asked Wayne impatiently. 
 
 "An oil seep !" cried Tarrant, slapping him boisterously 
 on the back. "Man, they shot the old hombre so full of 
 crude petroleum that it inoculated him and his whole darn 
 family and rendered them immune to oil fever forever 
 and ever!" 
 
 Wayne choked, grew red in the face and swore. 
 
 "I was just explaining," murmured Tarrant. 
 
 "Oh, talk business!" protested Wayne. "Wake up to 
 the situation! Things are going to happen here. You'll 
 see some excitement here inside a week." 
 
 "Sooner than that," said Tarrant. "Look over there."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 SOME horsemen who were unloading a consignment of 
 draft horses for the oil fields from a car on the siding 
 had led the last horse in the car out onto the runway, 
 and at the sight of him a shout of dismay rose from the 
 throat of the fat half -Mexican consignee. 
 
 "Holy red roaring! What in blazes they think I'm 
 doing ! running a circus ?" he bellowed. "You little calico 
 runt! What you doing in a car with honest draft horses?" 
 
 The animal thus addressed stood with two dirty fore- 
 feet on the runway, leaning back against the halter while 
 he somnolently surveyed his new surroundings. Even the 
 Pullman passengers from the Limited, grouped round the 
 siding to see the fun, w r ere aware that he did not belong 
 in a shipment of chunky draft animals. He was too light 
 in weight, too thin in the legs and neck. He was a saddle 
 horse, and he was as ugly as he was sleepy looking. Na- 
 ture apparently had mixed the colors on the day of his 
 birth. To the fore of a line drawn roughly about his 
 girth he might have been called a dark horse irregularly 
 splotched with white, and to the rear of the line he was 
 a white horse spotted with black. As he emerged wholly 
 from the gloom of the car into the glare of the sun one 
 of the men cried out : 
 
 "I know him! It's that Nine Spot horse, the trained 
 bucker, that was in the rodeo down to Forth Worth !" 
 
 The consignee swore again. 
 
 "A calico bucker! And me paying for oil-field draft 
 horses I Bring him down I" 
 
 14
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 15 
 
 The man at the horse's head led him down and spoke 
 gently to him; and the gaudy beast rewarded him by 
 rising upon its hind legs and striving earnestly to beat the 
 man's head off. 
 
 "Hang to him, horseman!" jeered the oilmen, and the 
 horse jerked free and ran. He did not run far, however, 
 for the horsemen were experienced and a rope was thrown 
 and snubbed so swiftly and effectively that the pinto went 
 down in a heap. 
 
 "I'll have his hide anyway !" roared the buyer. "Some- 
 body gimme a gun. Darn a shipper who will make a mis- 
 take like that. Darn a horse that think's he a prize fighter. 
 Who's getting that gun? I'll make a good horse out of 
 him in about two seconds, if he'll stand still long enough 
 to let me hit him." 
 
 A boy ran into a store and appeared with a shotgun. 
 The effect was distressing upon the passengers. Those 
 who had decided to seek such nourishment as Tin Spout 
 afforded halted in their movement toward Chili Joe's eat- 
 ing house. A few stared in morbid curiosity, others re- 
 treated to the Pullman; but one of them, a young, slim 
 girl with light hair, whose blue eyes were flashing with 
 indignation, stepped forth and confronted the irate cabal- 
 lero. 
 
 "You brute !" said she, and the oilmen roared with glee 
 at her words. "Do you actually mean to destroy that 
 beautiful pony?" 
 
 "Pony?" snorted the horseman. "Lady, that ain't no 
 pony. That's a devil in a horsehide." 
 
 "He's a finer thing than you are!" retorted the girl. 
 The oilmen shouted their approval. She turned upon 
 them instantly.
 
 16 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Are you men going to stand by and see this done?" 
 she said, appealing to the nearest spectator. This spec- 
 tator happened to be a tall, gangling mule skinner, and at 
 her words he was smitten dumb by confusion. 
 
 "Can't this be stopped?" she pleaded. 
 
 "Hell, yes!" stammered the skinner. "I'll shoot old 
 Sam if you say the word." 
 
 Another roar of laughter greeted this sally and the 
 girl's face flushed in embarrassment. 
 
 An easy, drawling voice spoke casually from the shade 
 of the box car. 
 
 "Why don't you make him your saddle horse, Sam?" 
 
 "Hello, Tarrant !" cried the horseman heartily. "What ? 
 Me ride that wildcat with hoofs? Man, I ain't no rodeo 
 performer. You take off that sombrero, Spence. You're 
 an oilman. Where do you head in talking horse to me?" 
 
 "I'm agreed," drawled Tarrant. "A man shouldn't talk 
 horse except to a horseman. No horseman would make 
 any fuss over forking a little calico pony like that." 
 
 A large wad of bills came forth promptly from the 
 horseman's pocket. 
 
 "Here's a hundred dollars says you can't stay with 
 him," he said belligerently. 
 
 "Who, me?" said Tarrant. "Put back your money, 
 Sam. I used to ride horses." 
 
 "A hundred dollars, oilman !" cried the cab oiler o. "Put 
 up or change your hat !" 
 
 Tarrant removed the sombrero, inspected it casually 
 and replaced it on his head. 
 
 "I like the style, Sam," said he. 
 
 "Then dig!" commanded Sam. "Tell you what I'll 
 do, Spence : I'll bet the pinto against your hat. You got
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 17 
 
 no business wearing that hat, fooling round oil. Me, I 
 can become it. What say?" 
 
 "That's a bet," agreed Tarrant. "I can use that little 
 saddle pony, Sam, and you won't get my hat." 
 
 "Throw him and saddle him, boys !" shouted the horse- 
 man. "Back away, folks, and give a long-geared oilman 
 room to hit the dirt. I'll take the hat now, Spence no?" 
 
 The skill with which the horse was thrown and saddled 
 testified to the number of former riders among the oil 
 workers. It was an oil country now, a land of industry, 
 of machines, but only a few years ago the horse had 
 been king there instead of gasoline, and the cult of the 
 saddle horse still was strong. The men began to express 
 opinions. They were oilmen, and therefore anything that 
 might add a new fillip of excitement to their already 
 tense lives was welcome ; and anything that might be made 
 a gambling proposition to supplement the great gamble 
 of drilling for oil was doubly welcome. Operators, lease 
 hounds, rough-necks and skinners shook money at one 
 another and sought stakeholders. Chili Joe, proprietor 
 of the Skinners' Rest eating house, ran out and began to 
 hunt odds. By the time Nine Spot stood saddled and 
 ready the contest had assumed the proportions of a great 
 betting affair; and as Tarrant went swiftly into the sad- 
 dle the long, piercing cry rose from a dozen throats : 
 
 "Eeeeee-yow ! Ri-i-ide 'im, cowboy!" 
 
 Nine Spot made three catlike springs as soon as he felt 
 the weight on his back, and turned round so suddenly 
 that his tail seemed to flick his nose. He next dashed him- 
 self recklessly against the box-car station. 
 
 In bewilderingly rapid succession the pony became a 
 great cat, supple-spined and limber-legged, that clawed
 
 i8 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 at the air and shook himself; he became a stiff-legged old 
 steer, bumping over the ground in four-footed leaps, each 
 of which jarred himself and rider to the marrow. He 
 twisted and changed ends. At last he arose to the summit 
 of equine frenzy. He flung himself up on his hind legs 
 till his outstretched nose was in a line with his tail. A 
 moment he poised so, a spectacle which glued the tongues 
 in the mouths of the spectators. Then with a savage 
 grunt he flung himself backward, seeking to crush his 
 rider in the fall, even if he killed himself in doing so. 
 
 Tarrant was expecting the move. He was free from, 
 the stirrups ere the fall began, yet so sudden, so fierce was 
 the backward heave of the beast that the passengers 
 shrieked as they fancied him pinned beneath the saddle. 
 The knowing natives saw him fling himself out from 
 under the falling animal and their shouts acclaimed the 
 perilous feat expertly done. 
 
 "Stay with him ! You're a rider!" 
 
 Out of the welter of mud, of flying hoofs the man rose 
 first, and the reins were in his hands. Like a boxer wait- 
 ing a fresh onslaught and ready to carry the attack to a 
 finish, he waited while the horse rolled catwise twice and 
 prepared to rise. Then he was in the saddle. Nine Spot 
 found his head pulled up by an iron hand, iron legs gripped 
 his sides, a sombrero fanned his head, and a triumphant 
 voice shrieked: 
 
 "Ee-yow ! Yow ! Yip, yip, yip-ee !" 
 
 The horse lunged against the bit, thought better of it, 
 and, having gone through his customary performance, 
 subsided with a shudder of relief. 
 
 "Keep your big hat; you sure are entitled to wear it,"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 19 
 
 cried the horseman. "Man, you ride too well; you'll 
 never amount to anything in the oil business !" 
 
 A burst of laughter greeted this sally and a crowd of 
 men swarmed about the pony and his rider. 
 
 On the outskirts of the throng a steady-eyed block of 
 a man with snow-white hair, waited patiently for the fun 
 to subside, then called out in businesslike tones : 
 
 "Tarrant! Can I see you a minute?" 
 
 "Hello, Hennessy," greeted Tarrant. He slid off the 
 horse and approached the well shooter. The latter jerked 
 his head in the direction of a man at his side, but made 
 no move to effect an introduction. 
 
 "This party is from the Pan-National Syndicate, 
 Spence; Bodine's company, you know," said Hennessy. 
 "They have bought me out. The Hennessy Torpedo Com- 
 pany is theirs now. This man allows they don't want me 
 to shoot your well this afternoon. They are out to stop 
 all new production here while they're pulling the wires 
 for their boom." 
 
 Tarrant's first glimpse at the stranger was sufficient to 
 give him an unpleasant impression. The stranger was 
 intently scrutinising the young oilman. He was tall and 
 broad-shouldered. His swarthy countenance was hard 
 and crafty, and a wide scar ran across one side of his face 
 from the lobe of the ear to the tip of the nose. Tarrant 
 looked him over calmly from head to toe and deliberately 
 turned away. 
 
 "I don't see what all that has got to do with me, Jim," 
 said he. "You made a contract to shoot that well some 
 time ago. I am holding you to that contract." 
 
 The stranger exhaled a puff of smoke from the cigarette 
 he was smoking without interrupting his study of Tarrant.
 
 20 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "It might be good business for you to let the well lay," 
 
 said he. 
 
 "Elmer and Buck are getting her ready for the shoot, 
 Hennessy," continued Tarrant, completely ignoring the 
 scarred man and addressing himself entirely to the well 
 shooter. "I am expecting you to come out this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Hennessy nodded. 
 
 "I have got to do it, Spence," he said. "I told them 
 so. I don't make a contract I don't live up to. But I am 
 making it plain that will be the last one I can shoot for 
 you." 
 
 "There won't be any more for anybody to shoot in this 
 field for some time to come," supplemented the stranger 
 flatly. 
 
 Tarrant turned slowly and regarded the man with mild 
 curiosity. 
 
 "That is important if true," said he with an obvious 
 challenge in his tone and manner. The stranger noted 
 it instantly. A cold light gleamed in his eyes and went 
 out, and he smiled on the scarred side of his face. 
 
 "We'll let you shoot this one, since Hennessy has con- 
 tracted to do it," he said. 
 
 Hennessy glanced apprehensively at Tarrant, but the 
 oilman's expression in no way betrayed the effect the 
 words had upon him. 
 
 "I'm obliged," he said quietly. 
 
 Silently the two men eyed each other. The single move- 
 ment discernible was the flicker of the stranger's eyelid 
 as the smoke from his cigarette crept upward. 
 
 As he faced the scarred man Tarrant appreciated for 
 the first time the truth of the rumours that a new force
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 21 
 
 was about to make itself felt in the Tin Spout oil field. 
 The stranger man stood forth as the forerunner of a new 
 day. He was a scout, but in contrast to the duties of the 
 regular oil scout, which consists of appraising the wells 
 and structural formation of a new field, the newcomer 
 seemed bent upon the appraisal of the men who were 
 ahead of him in the field and of Tarrant in particular. 
 The latter understood that he was up for inspection, and 
 he saw that the inspection was not friendly. By the ex- 
 pression in the stranger's bleak, narrow-lidded eyes, it 
 was obvious that he had come with prejudice in his mind, 
 and as his deliberate scrutiny of the young oil-man con- 
 tinued it was apparent that he discovered nothing which 
 tended to remove or temper his prejudice. Tarrant's in- 
 tense nature had responded to the stranger's attitude as 
 if to a spoken challenge, but no one, observing his coun- 
 tenance, could have estimated by his expression the nature 
 of his swift change of moods. In fact he had promptly 
 effaced all expression from his face and it was now no 
 more scrutable than a brown leather mask. 
 
 "All right, Hennessy," he said, turning away, "much 
 obliged." 
 
 Tarrant stood still, but his eyes followed the man till 
 he was out of sight. He did not speak for some time. 
 
 "Hard-boiled," he said finally: "who is he, Jim?" 
 
 "His name is Grogan," replied the well shooter. "Any- 
 how, that's what he goes by. From what I can make out, 
 he's sort of Bodine's right-hand man. He was sent up 
 here to size you up, if you're asking my opinion. Came 
 and asked me to point you out. I reckon they had heard 
 of you, Spence, and wanted to get a line on your forma- 
 tion."
 
 22 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "How come?" said Tarrant. 
 
 "They are out to combine everything here in the Pan 
 National Syndicate," was the reply. "They want com- 
 plete control. I reckon they heard you weren't so easy to 
 control." 
 
 "Do you reckon, Jim," said Tarrant with a smile, "they 
 have picked that hard guy to control me?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Hennessy; "they just want a line on 
 you, to know what sort of a proposition to make you, I 
 reckon." 
 
 "Have you got your outfit, Jim?" asked Tarrant, 
 abruptly changing the subject. 
 
 "Sure have," replied the shooter. "Ready to start any 
 time you are." 
 
 "I am not quite ready yet," said Tarrant. "I will be, 
 right after lunch. I've got to see a party."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ' I^HE "party" he had to see was the slim, fair-haired 
 * girl who had faced the enraged horseman so indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 Tarrant looked for her in the crowd, but she was gone. 
 The passengers were crowding into Chili Joe's eating 
 house, and finally he had a glimpse of her back among 
 the late comers. He stood undecided for a moment while 
 his eyes followed her as she disappeared inside. 
 
 "She will be getting on that train soon and riding on 
 and I will never see her again," ran his thoughts. Then, 
 because it was natural for him to do so, he made his 
 decision promptly. 
 
 "Yes, I will," he thought. "I want to see her some 
 more, and I will." 
 
 He pushed his way into the Skinner's Rest resolved to 
 create an opportunity for further speech with her. He 
 saw her about to seat herself at a table in the corner. 
 Across the table from her was another vacant seat, and 
 instantly Tarrant marked it for his own. There were 
 obstacles and complications, however, to the achievement 
 of his aim, and to some men they might have been re- 
 garded as insuperable. There was a throng between him 
 and the desired table, and two men, one a well-dressed 
 traveler, the other a young driller with a purple silk shirt, 
 were bearing down upon the seat opposite the girl with 
 eager intentness. 
 
 The boy from the oil field was winning. In fact, he 
 
 23
 
 24 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 seemed certain to have the race won, for as Tarrant 
 entered the room the boy was but a step or two from 
 the coveted chair. He did not reach it, however. Through 
 the room rang a piercing cry : 
 
 "Don't shoot, gents; don't shoot!" 
 
 The boy froze where he was. In this he did not differ 
 from any other person in the crowded room, with the ex- 
 ception of Tarrant, but his act was the one that was im- 
 portant to Tarrant's intention. Tarrant swept imper- 
 turbably through the crowd, won his -way to the girl's 
 table and was in the seat opposite her before the crowd 
 had recovered from the shock. Then there was reaction, 
 confusion and presently a little anger. 
 
 "Who said 'don't shoot' ?" demanded Chili Joe. 
 
 "I did," said Tarrant evenly. 
 
 "You you see somebody going to shoot somebody, 
 Mr. Tarrant?" stammered Joe. 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 "Then how come you yell like that?" 
 
 "It was good advice, wasn't it?" demanded Tarrant 
 firmly. "You wouldn't want to see a shooting in your 
 place, would you? I wouldn't like to see it. Give your 
 place a bad name. You prove to me it wasn't good ad- 
 vice and I'll apologise." 
 
 "But, Tarrant," protested Joe, scratching his bald head 
 in bewilderment, "nobody was going to shoot nobody, was 
 they?" 
 
 "How do you know?" demanded Tarrant sternly. 
 
 "Well-^was they?" 
 
 "How do I know?" said Tarrant. "I am no mind 
 reader. I stand on my first proposition, Joe ; you prove it 
 was bad advice and I'll apologise. What do you say ?"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 25 
 
 "I dunno," muttered Joe, staring in amazement. "I 
 I oh, shucks, it's too hot to figger it out!" he cried and 
 retreated co his kitchen, grumbling as he went that he 
 reckoned Tarrant must have gone crazy. 
 
 "Yes, he has!" bitterly murmured the purple-shirted 
 boy who had lost his seat. "Crazy as a fox!" 
 
 The youth stood his ground for a time staring darkly 
 at Tarrant as if prepared to say something, but he thought 
 better of it and slouched away while the travelers buzzed 
 and stared in wonderment as they began their meals, and 
 oilmen choked on small bites of food or hurried outside 
 and bent double with laughter. 
 
 Tarrant was oblivious, blissfully oblivious of it all. 
 His conscience troubled him no more than that of a stag 
 which has scattered possible rivals. In fact, he had quite 
 forgotten the means used in obtaining his wish, for the 
 girl had remained seated throughout the general conster- 
 nation in the room and now she was staring across the 
 table at Tarrant in frank appraisal. 
 
 "You are not crazy, are you?" she asked presently. 
 
 "They haven't proved it on me yet," he replied. 
 
 "I see no reason why anyone shouldn't be crazy here," 
 she went on ; "it seems to be in the air. What a bedlam ! 
 Are they all insane?" 
 
 "None of them !" laughed Tarrant. "At least, as I say, 
 they haven't proved it against any of us yet. It's the 
 oil fever that does it. After you've been here awhile you 
 don't notice it because you would have the fever your- 
 self." 
 
 "I hope," she said, "that I shall find Ranger Falls a 
 little more civilised." 
 
 "Ah!" said Tarrant in relief. "Much obliged!"
 
 26 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 She stared. 
 
 "I beg your pardon?" 
 
 "That's what I wanted to hear." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Where you are going," said he. "I certainly am 
 obliged to you." 
 
 "I don't see what possible difference it can make to you 
 where I am going," she said swiftly. "You don't even 
 know my name." 
 
 "I don't just see what names have got to do with it," 
 said Tarrant. "Are you stopping at the Falls awhile?" 
 
 "Is this a crude attempt at a flirtation?" she demanded 
 coldly. 
 
 "Heaven forbid !" he exclaimed seriously. "I will prove 
 it isn't." 
 
 "You think you will have the opportunity?" 
 
 "I aim to make the opportunity," he replied. "Just as 
 I aimed to get this seat. If you would tell me where you 
 are stopping at the Falls it would simplify matters, but I 
 reckon you won't do that." 
 
 Her look of scorn failed to disturb him and he went on : 
 
 "When I saw you going in here I thought : 'She is get- 
 ting away from you, boy ; go after her.' So I did. When 
 you tell me you're going to Ranger Falls I breathe more 
 easily. It will be easy for me to find you there." 
 
 "Will you kindly remember," she broke in, "that we are 
 complete strangers?" 
 
 "Everybody has to be strangers sometime," he retorted 
 calmly. "I reckon Adam and Eve were strangers to each 
 other once." 
 
 "Possibly," she admitted, "but times have changed a
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 27 
 
 little, haven't they? And this is scarcely a Garden of 
 Eden, is it?" 
 
 "No," he agreed ; "the different species of animals are 
 present, but oh, Joe !" he called to the proprietor, "have 
 you got any apples?" 
 
 "Apples?" gasped Chili Joe. "Where do you reckon 
 you are?" 
 
 "No ; you were right," said Tarrant. "It isn't the Gar- 
 den of Eden." 
 
 "All aboard!" The call of a trainman announcing the 
 departure of the train interrupted him. The girl accepted 
 the announcement as a means of escape. She paid her 
 check and stood up. 
 
 "Adios till I see you at Ranger Falls," said Tarrant, 
 rising and bowing low. 
 
 "Garden of Eden ! Apples !" she gasped. She looked 
 at him a moment, then putting her handkerchief to her 
 mouth to smother the laughter rising within her she bolted 
 for the train. 
 
 "Know who that was, Spence?" asked Hennessy, slip- 
 ping into the seat she had vacated. 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "She's the daughter of Doctor Dickinson, one of the 
 big bugs of Bodine's crowd," replied the well shooter. 
 "From Chicago. She's going down to Ranger Falls to 
 live with her dad. They tell me Bodine paid his old girl 
 off and got her out of town."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 TlyTARJORIE DICKINSON sat up straight and tense 
 *** on the green plush of the Pullman as the train, 
 slowly feeling its way over a sodden track-bed, carried 
 her away from Tin Spout to her destination at Ranger 
 Falls. Her lips parted occasionally, and then she would 
 press them tightly together, as if she were doing her best 
 to control the outward manifestations of the emotional 
 tumult which seethed within her. Her efforts were far 
 from successful. She was just twenty; and the slight 
 flush which toned the fair skin of her cheeks, and the 
 dancing light in her young blue eyes, flashed an obvious 
 signal of virginal Youth vibrantly responsive to a suc- 
 cession of thrills. 
 
 It was all so new to her. A month ago she had not 
 known that such places as Tin Spout existed. If she had 
 been aware of the existence of oil fields in general her 
 knowledge had been so vague as to be negligible. Cer- 
 tainly she could not by any stretch of the imagination 
 have conceived that the sudden development of the great 
 oil boom in the Southwest with its consequent influence 
 upon potential investors throughout the country, could 
 possibly reach within her sheltered, protected existence 
 and rudely divert her life from its apparently ordained 
 channels. She was the only child of Dr. Warner Dick- 
 inson, and the name of Dr. Dickinson, the child specialist, 
 was a shibboleth in the life of Chicago's prosperous North 
 Shore circles. Save for the loss of his wife while Mar- 
 
 28
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 29 
 
 jorie was a child, the rewards of a useful and impeccable 
 career were his in full measure. His practice had yielded 
 him a comfortable fortune. He was respected, and even 
 honoured; and there was no trace of weakness or of 
 avarice apparent in his character, until the epidemic of 
 "oil-fever" began to sweep the country. Dr. Dickinson 
 had met Mr. Jackson Bodine, President of the Pan Na- 
 tional Syndicate, at his club, and at Bodine's invitation 
 had made a journey to the Texas oil fields. The doctor 
 returned from the trip smitten with the fever of specula- 
 tion in its most virulent form. In a short time he gave up 
 his practice and joined the throng of excited citizens of 
 all classes who were pouring into the drab oil country of 
 the Southwest, drawn by the common lure of the great oil 
 boom. 
 
 Marjorie had been pleased. "You should have given 
 up practice years ago," she said. "Now you can get your 
 sleep at nights. Why don't you take me with you to 
 Texas, daddy?" 
 
 "The oil fields are not the place for my little Marjie," 
 replied the doctor, laughing. "No; I'll take you for a 
 trip some day, but not down there." 
 
 During the doctor's absence Marjorie's life continued 
 in its smooth channels, with no hint of the cloud that was 
 gathering about her. 
 
 "Yes, father has finally retired," she replied to those 
 who inquired. "He's in Texas at present on some busi- 
 ness, but he will be back soon." 
 
 Dr. Dickinson did not come back soon. Fortune ap- 
 parently smiled upon him from the first. Mr. Bodine, as 
 resident of the Pan National Syndicate, frankly admitting 
 that he wished to associate with investors of the doctor's
 
 3O Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 standing, let him in on a quiet little lease deal; and the 
 ten thousand dollars which the doctor invested promptly 
 became thirty thousand when the lease was sold to the 
 holders of Pan National stock. 
 
 "Will you take your nice, little profit and quit, doc- 
 for?" asked Bodine gravely as he handed over the check; 
 but within he was smiling confidently. He had seen too 
 many solid, elderly citizens become innoculated with the 
 virus of petroleum speculation to have any doubts con- 
 cerning the symptoms of the weakness. Dr. Dickinson, 
 his sense of greed awakened for the first time in his life, 
 followed the usual course. He disposed of the sound, 
 stable bonds in his safe deposit box, converted his income- 
 producing properties in Chicago into ready money, and be- 
 came a member of the board of directors of the Pan Na- 
 tional Syndicate. Golden opportunities seemed to present 
 themselves on every hand, and fabulous returns seemed 
 certain, if one only had the capital to take advantage of 
 the situation. A mortgage was placed on the snug home 
 which Marjorie occupied. And still opportunities crowded 
 upon him; and he had no more capital with which to 
 make them his. Presently he found himself desperately 
 scurrying about for means with which to carry on his 
 speculations; and then the demon of avarice whispered: 
 "Marjorie!" 
 
 This thought had asserted itself soon after it became 
 apparent to Dr. Dickinson's excited mind that Mr. Bo- 
 dine was losing interest in him. In truth Bodine was 
 playing a game so big that Dr. Dickinson, his valuable 
 standing and his considerable investment, represented only 
 a piece of bait, and he was too busy with new prospects 
 to waste much time on an investor who was landed. To
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 31 
 
 the doctor the memory of the private deal in which Bo- 
 dine had favored him was like a single drink of liquor 
 to a drunkard. Driven by his newly awakened lust for 
 gold he racked his brains for the means any means ! to 
 recall his intimacy with Bodine. He studied the pro- 
 moter's character with a view to cultivating him, and thus 
 the devil that ruled him came to whisper: "Marjorie!" 
 The doctor sat down and wrote a letter; and Marjorie, 
 girlishly eager and obedient, had started for Texas, know- 
 ing nothing of what lay behind her father's writing, or of 
 what lay before her. 
 
 Tin Spout had been a rude revelation to her. Its crude- 
 ness and ugliness had shocked and repelled her. She had 
 stepped from the comfort of the Pullman into a sea of 
 mud, and from the company of clean, well-dressed pas- 
 sengers into the midst of muddy, rough-looking men. 
 The threats of the fat horseman and the apathy with 
 which the men received the imminent slaughter of the 
 spotted pony, had further shocked her. She had recoiled 
 from the brutality of the scene, and she had flown to the 
 pony's defense with the budding woman's instinct to pro- 
 tect the helpless. And yet all this, the ugliness of the 
 town, the roughness of the men, the whole harshness of 
 the scene, now came back to her blurred and softened. 
 Those few minutes across the table from Tarrant had 
 effaced the shock of her first impressions and left her in a 
 state of strange confusion. What sort of a man was he, 
 to risk his life on the pony for the sake of a jest? The 
 scene recurred to her, vivified in her memory, the spec- 
 tacle of the maddened animal hurling himself backward, 
 the tall rider apparently crushed beneath him in the splat-
 
 32 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 tering mudl And then he was on his feet, he wasn't hurt 
 at all, he 1 
 
 Marjorie suddenly looked at her hands and saw the 
 marks of her nails in the palms. She rubbed her hands 
 together to efface the marks, but halfway in the process 
 she stopped abruptly. Would he really attempt to find 
 her at Ranger Falls ? How old was he ? 
 
 His face was hard and lined, but his eyes were young, 
 like a boy's. What color were they, blue or gray ? Gray, 
 probably. And he had ordered apples ! 
 
 Marjorie's handkerchief came suddenly into play to 
 smother the laughter that bubbled to her lips and she 
 looked out of the window to hide her face from her fellow 
 passengers. An eight-horse load of casing was stuck in 
 the muddy road beside the right of way and the horses 
 were balking and plunging. A silk-shirted, muck-splat- 
 tered youth on the driver's seat forgot his horses while he 
 enthusiastically waved his hat at the face pressed against 
 the Pullman window, and Marjorie flashed him a smile 
 and waved back. 
 
 The train rolled on cautiously past the last derrick of 
 the Tin Spout field through the open, unproved territory, 
 where only the wildest of wild-cattlers were represented by 
 an occasional test well, the derrick weirdly lone and skele- 
 ton-like in the bleak landscape, and onto the open plains. 
 The oil-boom had smitten the range country and left it 
 temporarily barren. The great herds of cattle were gone 
 from the ranches and only a few steers or cows were 
 gathered around the water tanks. Areas of wheat and 
 corn land lay untilled. The ranch houses presented a de- 
 serted appearance. Land and owners were marking time, 
 awaiting the coming of the oil-man's drill. The Rio
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 33 
 
 Canyado was crossed at a snail's pace, the brown water 
 gurgling hungrily between the ties of the trestle. There 
 was another stretch of weary looking flat lands, then the 
 train climbed a leisurely grade, topped a low ridge with an 
 expanse of rolling country beyond; and at the scene which 
 presented itself Marjorie temporarily forgot Tin Spout 
 and "at up and stared. Far away toward the southern 
 horizon she saw what at first appeared to be a dense forest 
 of charred tree trunks, and beyond that, marvel of mar- 
 vels ! rose what anywhere else she would have concluded 
 were the tops of two modern sky-scrapers. Passengers 
 crowded eagerly to the windows, and the porter volun- 
 teered an explanation. The charred tree trunks were the 
 closely cluttered derricks of the Ranger Falls oil field, 
 and the two high buildings beyond it indicated the brand 
 new city which those grimy derricks had so miraculously 
 created. 
 
 "Rangeh Falls, Rangeh Falls* 
 
 Marjorie made her preparations for alighting in a high 
 state of excitement and anticipation. Would Ranger 
 Falls be like Tin Spout? What questions did she not 
 have to ask her father ! 
 
 She was the first to alight, hopping down from the Pull- 
 man without accepting the porter's proffered help, eagerly 
 searching the crowd for her father. Dr. Dickinson was 
 not in sight, and in her disappointment Marjorie looked 
 round in bewilderment. Her fellow-passengers soon were 
 lost in the thick crowd on the station platform and she 
 was left alone. She saw men looking at her, and she 
 shuddered with disgust at the look in their eyes. Most 
 of them were middle-aged or elderly, their apparel and 
 jewelry and bearing proclaiming their prosperity. Their
 
 34 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 faces bore in the main the hard, ruthless expression of 
 professional gamblers; for they were mostly promoters 
 down at the station to look over the potential investors 
 among the Limited's passengers. There were women 
 with hard faces and much paint and jewelry also in the 
 station, and these, too, looked speculatively at the young 
 girl left all alone and bewildered at the train. Marjorie 
 lifted her chin and looked away. The strange conduct of 
 a group of men attracted her attention. They stood with 
 their backs to the train, apparently unconscious of its 
 thundering arrival, or of the clatter of descending pas- 
 sengers. She saw that they were listening with excited 
 intentness to a youth who was reading a telegram aloud. 
 Men hurrying for the train, handbags in hand, were 
 caught by the attraction that absorbed the group and for- 
 got all about the train. 
 
 "What's that? They brought in a new well at Tin 
 Spout? Who got it? How much is she doing?" 
 
 "Spence Tarrant," repeated the youth with the tele- 
 gram. "He's just shot his wild cat. Grogan wires it's a 
 little one." 
 
 "Have you got Tarrant in your Syndicate, Doc'?" 
 queried a listener. 
 
 "Not yet, not yet," spoke an excited voice from the 
 heart of the group. 
 
 Marjorie recognized the voice as that of her father. 
 She sprang upon the porter's foot-stool and standing on 
 tiptoes craned her neck to see over the heads of the ex- 
 cited men. At length she picked out her father by his 
 head of white hair, for Dr. Dickinson was bare-headed, 
 his hat was in his hand, and his face was red with excite- 
 ment as he gesticulated and argued with the men about
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 35 
 
 him. Through the babble Marjorie caught snatches of 
 her father's sentences. 
 
 "Absolutely harmful bringing in small wells. New 
 day in oil industry. Small well hurts a field. Mr. Bo- 
 dine makes that clear. Petty fool operators like Tarrant 
 refuse advice from man of his calibre !" 
 
 He turned around. There was a glaze of excitement 
 over his eyes ; his mouth was working at the corners, and 
 his tie was awry. 
 
 "Daddy!" cried Marjorie. 
 
 He stared at her for a moment as if in the stupor of a 
 frenzy. 
 
 "By George! I nearly forgot," he exclaimed. "Mar- 
 jie!" 
 
 He kissed her and by the swift, perfunctoriness of the 
 kiss the girl sensed how great had been the change in him. 
 
 "Your tie is a sight, Daddy," she scolded, and straight- 
 ened it to hide the effects of the shock which he had dealt 
 her. , 
 
 "You were held up at Tin Spout, weren't you, Marjie?" 
 he went on swiftly. "Did you hear them talking about a 
 new well up there? Of course not I It hadn't been shot 
 
 then Well, well! I hope you will enjoy yourself 
 
 here, Marjie. It's a wonderful country; most wonderful 
 section of the country. Greatest opportunities. Attracts 
 the best men. Wonderful men. Business geniuses, like 
 Mr. Bodine. Did you stand the trip well, Marjie?" He 
 looked at her with an expression of appraisal which made 
 her uncomfortable. "By George, yes!" he said admir- 
 ingly. "Come, we'll go to the hotel." 
 
 Marjorie followed him in something of daze. He was 
 changed so! The thoughtful, even absent-minded phy-
 
 36 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 sician, the grave but considerate father, were gone. His 
 gravity had become a manner which approached close to 
 pompousness, and his considerateness was submerged in 
 the greed which swayed him, which brought the hungry 
 look into his eyes and about his fine, strong mouth. 
 
 "Daddy f" she cried at the sight of the great car which 
 awaited them. "Don't tell me you've gone and bought 
 that!" 
 
 "Don't you like it?" asked the doctor. 
 
 Marjorie contemplated the vastness, the lurid red body, 
 the gilt and nickel trimmings, the ornate chauffeur of the 
 car. 
 
 "It looks like a circus advertisement," she decided. 
 
 "It is Mr. Bodine's car," said Dr. Dickinson. "Get in." 
 
 Marjorie's depression increased during the short ride to 
 the hotel. The gorgeousness of the suite into which she 
 was shown did not serve to relieve the mood. 
 
 "It's too showy and too rich," she said after inspecting 
 the rococco embellishments of the room. "Daddy, please 
 please tell me what it means!" 
 
 "It means your old father has finally got into a live 
 game," replied the retired specialist jubilantly. "If you 
 could only appreciate the greatness of this game and the 
 
 nature of the opportunities Pshaw! You don't 
 
 want to bother your pretty little head about that, do you, 
 Marjie ? And quite right, too. You'll want to rest a little 
 and change, won't you?" continued the doctor suddenly 
 looking at his watch. "I've got to run down to the Ex- 
 change and have a look at the board. A man has got to 
 keep awake here." 
 
 "Father!" she said softly. "You had forgotten you 
 came to the station to meet me."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 37 
 
 "That was the man Tarrant's doing!" he exclaimed, 
 entirely insensible to the reproach in her words. "Fool- 
 ing around with small wells spoiling the reputation of 
 the field Mr. Bodine is going to operate in." He looked at 
 his watch again. "I must be going. Be back soon." 
 
 The door slammed. Marjorie stared at it blankly for a 
 moment. She sank down in a terribly red chair. The 
 chair was so large and the upholstery so rich that she 
 seemed quite lost in it. She huddled together and stared 
 helplessly at the door. Intuitively she felt the contact 
 with the great power which had caught and changed her 
 father so ruthlessly. What was this change, what would 
 this power mean to her? Her life-long reliance upon her 
 father had gone in a few minutes. She no longer felt the 
 old sense of complete security when in his company. He 
 seemed almost a stranger to her! He was not himself, 
 that was the trouble. He was no longer Dr. Warner 
 Dickinson. He was merely a pawn in the clutch of cir- 
 cumstances too strong for him. In her depressed mood 
 Marjorie seemed to feel this clutch reaching forth to 
 menace her. With her confidence in her father suddenly 
 destroyed she felt that she was in a strange land, and alone 
 and helpless. She rose and looked out of a window. 
 Across the street a throng of men were jammed excitedly 
 about a doorway bearing a sign: "Oil Exchange." Her 
 father was the most excited of those present. Marjorie 
 shrank back from the window and sank down again into 
 the ornate red chair.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 'T^HE shooting of an oil well is an occasion which al- 
 * ways draws a crowd of spectators in the oil fields. 
 It is the moment when drama enters into the development 
 of a well. On the whole the process of drilling for oil is 
 dull and monotonous, out of all proportion to its potential 
 drama. From the time when the first great base timbers 
 of the derrick are rolled into place until the final thud of 
 the drilling tools announces the completion of the well the 
 work is tedious. There is perhaps a thrilling moment 
 when, with the tools hung in place and steam in the boiler, 
 the order to "spud in" is given and several tons of steel 
 come thudding down upon the huge steel bit and drive it 
 into the virgin soil. The job has begun. 
 
 After that for twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four 
 the drilling continues with a monotony broken only by the 
 regular bailing, and perchance by accidents. As the drill 
 bites its way through clay, sand and rock formation the 
 strings of casing follow it. At times the tools are with- 
 drawn to allow the hole to be bailed out. Occasionally the 
 drill breaks and is lost deep down in the bowels of the 
 earth. Then a troublesome fishing job ensues, when the 
 grappling iron and huge harpoonlike tools are lowered into 
 the hole and, if fortune is kind and the skill of the fishers 
 great, the lost tools are brought to the surface. There- 
 upon the drilling is resumed and continued until the pay 
 sand is reached. 
 
 Now the climax approaches. The driller is to receive 
 
 38
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 39 
 
 the answer to the problem of weeks of toil and his thou- 
 sands of dollars of investment. The bailings are scanned 
 closely. Boiling water is poured upon the sand, or other 
 tests applied. The oil gambler awaits stoically the turn 
 of the final card. The next few hours may make him rich, 
 they may merely pay for the expense of drilling or they 
 may send him forth, penniless busted ! It is not a game 
 for men with tremulous nerves or faint hearts to play at. 
 
 In Tarrant's new well the drill bit had been driven into 
 the pay sand common to the Tin Spout field, a formation 
 so dense that it did not admit a free flow of oil into the 
 hole, and as a consequence the oil shooter was called in. 
 
 Tarrant's foreman, a grotesquely tall and attenuated 
 old oilman with shaggy eyebrows, who answered to the 
 single name of Elmer, and Buck, the stocky young driller 
 who wore gaudily striped silk shirts as part of his working 
 apparel, were preparing the wire line for lowering the 
 heavy charge of nitroglycerin into the hole. 
 
 "They tell me," said Elmer as he wound the line upon 
 a reel, "that this new Syndicate outfit that's sniffing round 
 is a sure 'nough swell crowd." 
 
 "I seen a piece in the Gazette about it," responded Buck. 
 "They've got a fine showing of judges and doctors on 
 their list of investors, and ministers, too." 
 
 Elmer chuckled softly in his long, thin throat. 
 
 There were few of the duties concerned in practical oil 
 welling, from laying the foundation timbers of a derrick 
 to shooting pay sand with nitroglycerin, that Elmer could 
 not perform acceptably. In his time he had been rig 
 builder, tool dresser, engineer, derrick man, platform man, 
 driller, teamster and cook. In a pinch it was rumored he 
 had posed as geologist for an innocent investor, and the
 
 40 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 anticline upon which he had located the innocent's well had 
 proved upon drilling to be as surely located directly above 
 a streak of oil sand as if it had been located by a geologist 
 with a string of letters after his name. 
 
 He had spent many years Jn every important field in 
 the country. He had participated in bringing in wells 
 which had created a flock of new millionaires; he had 
 seen salt water and dry holes turn highest hopes into total 
 ruin. He was still working for wages, for he could do 
 almost anything in the oil fields except make money out 
 of them for himself. 
 
 "When them ministerial specimens is laid low by an 
 attack of oil fever they gets it in a most vy-rulent form," 
 said he. "Take the average hombre who's been and had 
 his share of the stings and arrows of good and bad luck, 
 and a case of oil fever just sends him fair-to-middling 
 crazy. He up and stakes all his dinero and his friends' 
 dinero like a little man, and he sits down on the platform 
 and rolls a smoke and says nothing when he sees he's 
 dropped the said dinero into a dry hole. I've seen some 
 mighty odd and instructive sights along that line in my 
 time," said Elmer, leaning forward to inspect a rust spot 
 on the wire. 
 
 "I'll say you have," said Buck. "A whopping lot more 
 than any gent with any respect for the truth ever could 
 see." 
 
 "There was a hombre set up his rig as a preacher out in 
 the Bakersfield field," continued Elmer undisturbed. "He 
 was as nice a little sin shooter as ever brought the light to 
 an undeserving crew of roughnecks and passed the hat 
 afterwards. Mind you, I ain't saying he was a regular 
 foredoomed and licensed minister, because it came out
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 afterwards that he wasn't anything but a choir singer 
 who'd set out to do the best he could for himself, but I am 
 saying that when it came to spudding in on a job of sin 
 shooting and hammering away on the stem of salvation 
 Brother Almy was as near to being standard-rig cable 
 tools as benighted roughnecks like you, Buck, are apt to be 
 allowed to see. 
 
 "I've seen men cold sober as we be right at this minute 
 throw a twenty into the hat after Brother Almy got 
 through preaching and no Confed'rate money either. 
 Then Almy'd stuff the dinero into his pockets and thank 
 the boys and say that wasn't what he was after; he was 
 after souls. He certainly was one stiff driller for souls! 
 Not that he did so well that way as with the collection. 
 I've noticed," said Elmer, "that's it's easier to make a 
 gang of roughnecks give up a slice of their pay than to 
 make 'em give up their souls." 
 
 "Souls?" scoffed Buck. "Why, Elmer, it would be a 
 waste to give roughnecks like you a trace of soul." 
 
 "Almy hung round this boom camp for some time," 
 Elmer went on serenely, "and some of the boys said he 
 was picking up a little lease here and there with the money 
 he got in the hat, but we never believed it at first because 
 he panned the spirit of greed too strong to look like a 
 victim of oil fever. Then one evening he held a meeting 
 to celebrate how he's brought in a sinner's soul. His vic- 
 tim was a Cousin Jack who hauled nitroglycerin. It seems 
 this Cousin Jack had driven off the road into a gulley and 
 the stuff hadn't let go, so being a Cousin Jack he just nat- 
 urally went straight to the mourner's bench. 
 
 "Brother Almy sure did lay that nitro teamster out 
 lower than a snake's belly. There wasn't anything mean
 
 42 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 he didn't say about him. 'But even such as he may be 
 saved if they submit humbly/ says he; and just then, 
 whoosh ! a well came in flowing near us and the air was 
 full of noise and the smell of fresh oil. Brother Almy 
 jumped four feet and started running. 'Hey! How 
 about this poor sinner?' says someone. 'Oh, to hell with 
 him!' says Almy. 'That well will go a thousand barrels a 
 day and it's on my lease !' ' 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Then with brutal in- 
 difference Buck said : 
 
 "I heard it about a gold camp." 
 
 "You what?" demanded Elmer. 
 
 "It's an old one," said Buck. "They were burying a 
 fellow, and the preacher who was a fake like this Almy of 
 yours picked up a handful of dirt to throw on the coffin, 
 and he happened to look at it and run it through his 
 ringers, and then he yelled: 'Sink him some place else! I 
 stake out this claim. This is pay dirt !' ' 
 
 Elmer completed his task of winding the wire line upon 
 the reel before replying. 
 
 "I knew a party by the name of Buck once who was a 
 pretty decent citizen," said he, "but he went up into the 
 old Indian Territory and some woman up and married 
 him. Since then I ain't met no one named Buck who was 
 anywheres near human." 
 
 "Here's the boss," interrupted Buck as Tarrant a]> 
 proached. 
 
 "She's all set, Spence," said Elmer when Tarrant came 
 up to the well. "Jim Hennessy can come any time " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, for he saw that his employer was 
 not listening. Tarrant had halted abruptly and was look- 
 ing across the platform in the direction of the slush pool.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 43 
 
 Elmer slowly followed the direction of his eyes and saw 
 that Tarrant was looking hard at a swarthy- faced man 
 with a scar on one side of his face. The man was exam- 
 ining the contents of the slush pool, where the bailings 
 from the well had been poured, with the air of an inter- 
 ested expert. Also, he had between his thin lips a lighted 
 cigarette. 
 
 Tarrant went softly across the platform. 
 
 "I'd be obliged," said he quietly, "if you 'would not 
 smoke." 
 
 Grogan turned, and deliberately took the cigarette from 
 his mouth. He looked at Tarrant and raised the cigarette 
 toward his lips. There was a tigerish movement on Tar- 
 rant's part, an oath of surprise from Grogan, and the 
 lighted cigarette went flying into a near-by mud puddle. 
 From Tarrant's barely parted lips issued softly the single 
 word: "Travel!" 
 
 Grogan's face was a revelation. It seemed as if Tar- 
 rant's action had stripped a mask from him. His eyelids 
 were narrowed to slits. There was no mistaking the light 
 in the eyes behind them. His hands moved toward his 
 hips and stopped. 
 
 "Fellow," came Tarrant's voice icily, "you are nominat- 
 ing yourself to get hurt bad!" 
 
 The scarred man seemed to debate with himself for a 
 few seconds. Finally he drew back, a sneering smile on 
 his lips. 
 
 "They told me you were hard," he said mockingly. 
 "All right. You have sure declared yourself." 
 
 Elmer's shaggy white brows were drawn far down over 
 his eyes as he watched the stranger move away. 
 
 "A killer !" he muttered.
 
 44 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "That breed has gone out of fashion," Contra'dicted 
 Buck. 
 
 "So have rattlesnakes," retorted Elmer. "Don't I know 
 the breed? There's poison in the air round that hombre." 
 
 "There is something about him, too," continued the old 
 man slowly; "a quarter Spaniard is about how he's bred. 
 I suspect I have seen him somewhere before.'* 
 
 "Been in jail with him somewhere probably," suggested 
 Buck. 
 
 "Might be," agreed Elmer. "No, it don't seem like that 
 either. He's an oilman. Did you see him size up the 
 slush? I've seen that jasper in some oil field." 
 
 "Probably when you were drilling on Mars," put in 
 Buck. 
 
 "Do they habla Espanol on Mars, Buck?" 
 
 "They might. Why?" 
 
 "Wherever it was I saw that hombre he was talking 
 Spig," muttered Elmer. "It must have been down in Old 
 Mexico. But I've seen him some place shore 'nough, and 
 I'm gambling wherever he was there was trouble." 
 
 A motor car with a body resembling that of a small 
 delivery wagon, the whole painted a vivid red, came rum- 
 bling along the muddy road toward the well. It jolted 
 and lurched through the ruts and pitch holes of the road 
 like any of the other insignificant mud-covered machines 
 which were being driven that way, but at its approach the 
 other machines, no matter how fast, hurried to pull wide 
 to allow it to pass. At the well its appearance was the 
 signal for the spectators to retreat precipitately to a safe 
 distance. The reason was apparent when the car drew 
 near, for on its sides was painted in huge letters : "Nitro- 
 glycerin."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 45 
 
 Hennessy, the well shooter, swung off the road and 
 came jolting over the rough ground toward the derrick. 
 
 "I'm a little late," he said. "A fool service-car man 
 swung out of the garage as I was passing and hit me 
 there." He pointed to a badly damaged mud guard. 
 'Thought for awhile I'd have to fight him to make him 
 pay up." 
 
 He produced a long tin shell from his car and hooked it 
 to the wire line over the casing. From the cloth-lined 
 frames in the box of his car he carried a number of tin 
 cans and poured their contents into the shell. The liquid 
 which he poured resembled harmless sirup, but the careful 
 manner in which Hennessy lowered the filled shells to the 
 bottom of the well told what the stuff was. The charge 
 was then tamped by pouring a quantity of water on top of 
 the shell, and the crew with Buck and Elmer ran for 
 safety. 
 
 Tarrant followed, leaving Hennessy alone by the 
 charged well. The shooter glanced about to make sure no 
 one had remained within the zone of danger. Then he 
 lighted the fuse, dropped the go-devil down the hole and 
 ran. 
 
 There was a period of complete silence. Presently 
 from the top of the hole came a report, no louder than a 
 pistol shot. And then the earth shook for rods round. 
 There was a shriek of wind, as of a pent-up hurricane 
 striving to vent its roar through an eight-inch hole. A 
 roar that seemed to approach from far off mingled its deep 
 bass with the deafening shriek. The roar came nearer, 
 and with it rose the crescendo of whistling air. And the 
 roar grew louder. It seemed like the voice of some great 
 beast growling inarticulately. Louder and louder it grew,
 
 46 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 deeper and deeper its tone, until the deafening whistle was 
 drowned in the rising volcano of noise. 
 
 And then, with a final roar the rising flood of oil and 
 water flung itself out of the casing head. It splattered 
 the derrick and platform. The air was filled with the 
 odour of fresh oil. For a moment hope ran high. And 
 then the rising column descended to a disappointing 
 trickle. The oil flowed weakly over the head of the casing, 
 and that was all. 
 
 The disappointing result of the shot seemed to make no 
 impression on Tarrant. 
 
 "We'll let her blow herself out, same as if she was a 
 real oil well," he said quietly to the crew. 
 
 "She may do something good on the jack," consoled 
 Hennessy. 
 
 "She'll yield enough to give me what I am after," said 
 Tarrant easily. 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "Money enough to drill my new wild-cat," replied Tar- 
 rant. "That's what I was after."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "V^OU can do a lot better than waste your time that 
 way," interjected Wayne. "Wild-catting is a darn 
 poor way for a man to spend the proceeds from his pro- 
 ducing wells." 
 
 "You think it is, do you, Wayne?" said Tarrant mildly. 
 
 "I know it is," retorted Wayne. "Wild-catting is all 
 right if you can't do anything better. It used to be all 
 right here. It isn't any more. There's an opportunity for 
 something a thousand times better showing itself. 
 
 "Here is this little well that you have brought in," he 
 went on. "How much time and worry did you put into 
 it, and how much will it bring you in? Figure it up. If 
 you had fifty or sixty of them on the jack I'm not saying it 
 wouldn't amount to something worth while. Do you ever 
 expect to have that many pumpers here? No, you're 
 darn whistling you don't. You know better. What's 
 the answer then? Figure up everything you've got, and 
 your new wildcat and everything, and what have you got 
 for prospects? Darn little and darn slow, and nothing 
 big to look forward to. That is what this field means 
 that's absolutely all if we keep working here as we have 
 been doing. 
 
 "I tell you, Spence, there isn't enough money in that 
 game," he concluded vehemently. "This field isn't good 
 enough the way we're playing it. And here Mr. Bodine 
 comes through with the big idea." 
 
 "What is his idea?" said Tarrant. 
 
 47
 
 48 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Organisation, consolidation, control," replied Wayne 
 promptly. 
 
 "I know, but what's his game?" said Tarrant. 
 
 "I am trying to explain." 
 
 "I mean his own personal game? Is he an oilman, a 
 financier or what?" 
 
 "Bodine is a big man," said Wayne. "Big ideas, big 
 vision. It takes a man like him to see what this field 
 needs." 
 
 "What it needs," said Tarrant, "is a man who is good 
 enough oilman to hit the big pool we are all drilling for." 
 
 "And not finding," snapped Wayne. 
 
 "Not yet," agreed Tarrant. 
 
 "Not even a sign of it," said Wayne. 
 
 "Not a sign yet" 
 
 "And Bodine comes here with a proposition which is 
 just as big as the big pool would be if we hit it," continued 
 Wayne. "A hundred-million-dollar proposition. He can 
 swing it. Don't worry about that. He can swing any deal 
 he takes hold of. They don't come too big for him. I 
 know how he got his start. He used to be a gambler. He 
 doesn't make any bones about it. He was busted, flat as 
 a roughneck after two days in town. All he had was an 
 accident policy and a revolver. That was enough. 
 
 "He was cleaning the revolver one day and it went off. 
 Understand? Shot himself through his left hand. He 
 collected $1500 for it on his policy. With $1200 of that 
 he got a thirty-day option on a little refinery. Then he 
 went to New York to raise some money. It took him 
 about two days to pick out his man one of the real big" 
 guns up there. Bodine trailed him to a restaurant and 
 accidentally knocked over his man's cocktail, apologised,
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 49 
 
 introduced himself, got invited to sit down, and came 
 away with backing of a hundred thousand dollars. In a 
 few weeks Bodine had the hundred thousand as working 
 capital and the New Yorker had some stock. 
 
 "Now, Tarrant, how in the name of calm, cold business 
 sense do you expect to buck a man like that ? Why should 
 you want to buck him? He's a star. He's the next big 
 man in the oil business in this country. Do you know 
 what a chance we have got us small operators here? 
 He wants us with him. We have got a chance to be Bo- 
 dine's partners !" 
 
 "And that hard-boiled party, name of Grogan," said 
 Tarrant, "I suppose we have got a chance to be his part- 
 ner, too?" 
 
 "Oh, Grogan doesn't amount to anything," replied 
 Wayne impatiently. "He's merely Bodine's confidential 
 man. The Pan-National will have a big pay roll when they 
 get going. Bodine will need a man like Grogan to watch 
 things." 
 
 "Well, I will say he is a good one for that kind of a 
 job," agreed Tarrant 
 
 "Every man that Bodine picks is a good one for his 
 job," broke out the other enthusiastically. "I tell you, 
 Spence, he's a wonder. Look at Doctor Dickinson; he 
 threw up a fine society practice on the North Side in Chi- 
 cago to join Bodine. If men like that can afford to be his 
 partners I guess we can. I tell you he'll make millionaires 
 of all of us." 
 
 "Wayne," drawled Tarrant, "did you ever hear about 
 what happened to the jack rabbit that went into partner- 
 ship with the coyote? The coyote had one good meal." 
 
 "It's better to be in a big combine like this than to be
 
 50 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 on the outside when they've gobbled the whole field," re- 
 torted Wayne. 
 
 "Is that what they are after here?" 
 
 Wayne nodded. "They plan on a big scale," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "I'm not afraid of that 'gobbling' idea," said Tarrant. 
 "This country is too big to be gobbled up. They might 
 grab a lot of it, but there's always room beyond the hori- 
 zon for the man who has the backbone to strike off for 
 himself. Why, man, I've been gobbled up so often in my 
 checkered career that it does not scare me at all. Up in 
 the Gushing field I was gobbled so hard they took my rig 
 away. Over in Louisiana they had me working as a 
 driller. These little wells I'm getting now are stake 
 money, Wayne. I'll get a real oil well with the stakes they 
 give me. Sabe the game as I play it ?" 
 
 "You're a natural-born wildcatter on a big scale, that's 
 all," said Wayne. 
 
 "All right, Wayney!" laughed Tarrant. "And I'll 
 come back and say you're a good little fellow, but you're 
 running with the wrong herd." 
 
 "This herd, as you call it, has brains enough at least to 
 turn a cheap field into a great financial proposition," re- 
 torted Wayne. 
 
 "I don't know so much about the financial end of it," 
 said Tarrant, "but I'm kidding myself that I do know 
 something about getting oil in this field. I put in a lot of 
 years learning the game and hunting for the sort of struc- 
 ture that looked good to me, and this little field is it. I 
 haven't brought in anything big yet, but on the other hand 
 you'll notice I don't drill many dry holes or get into salt 
 water often. I will hit it big here. I'll do it or I'll go
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 51 
 
 broke so hard there won't be much left. No; Bodine is 
 after sucker money " 
 
 "Hold on, Spence! He's after consolidation that will 
 make the field an inviting investment proposition," inter- 
 rupted Wayne. 
 
 "Sucker money, I said, and I'll let her lay," persisted 
 Tarrant. "That's all right, too, if that's what you're after. 
 There's enough of them running round loose yearning for 
 somebody to take it away from them. Personally, I'm too 
 much interested in the oil-well business to have any inter- 
 est left over for the easy-money game. I am after oil. 
 There's more of it round here than we've touched so far. 
 I'm hunting for that big pool." 
 
 "Yes, and if it could be found you would find it," said 
 Wayne. "That's why we want you with us." 
 
 Tarrant's eyes searched his with a sudden flash. 
 
 "Us, eh?" he said, and was silent. 
 
 Wayne looked away, chewing his cigar. 
 
 "You've thrown in with Bodine, then?" said Tarrant 
 quietly. "I don't remember your telling me." 
 
 "I was going to tell you, Spence," protested Wayne. 
 "There wasn't time. I had to get in at once or not at all. 
 It was too big a chance to overlook. My wife wanted me 
 to do it, too. As she said, we weren't getting along very 
 fast, and this was our chance for big money." 
 
 "I suppose it does make a difference if you are mar- 
 ried," said Tarrant thoughtfully. 
 
 "It makes a difference to have a bonanza offered you," 
 said Wayne. 
 
 "And Bodine has got your lease, I reckon?" 
 
 "Not at all. It is part of the Pan-National Syndicate 
 holdings, and I'm an officer in the company. I traded a
 
 52 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 gamble for a sure thing. Spence, you must do the same 
 thing: trade a gamble for a sure thing." 
 
 Tarrant leaned back against the derrick and smiled. 
 
 "Wayne, if it wasn't for the gamble I doubt if I'd be in 
 the oil game," he said. "It's the gamble that makes it 
 what it is. That's what gets me. We are spudding in 
 Well No. 5 out on my wildcat lease south of town. What 
 will the drill hit ? Will it be pay sand, salt water or noth- 
 ing? Don't talk to me about a sure thing financially? 
 Man, I've seen and heard my own oil drumming against 
 the crown block, and that's what I am hoping to hear 
 again." 
 
 "Go down to Ranger Falls and talk with Bodine, 
 Spence," broke out Wayne. "I can't convince you, I see 
 that. He can. He'll make you see you can't afford to stay 
 out. He asked me to invite you to a conference with him." 
 
 "Did he?" said Tarrant. "That was friendly of him, 
 at least." 
 
 He pondered a moment, apparently deep in the in- 
 'ricacies of the problem confronting him. * 
 
 "Wayne," he said casually, "did you say something 
 about a party named Doctor Dickinson down there?" 
 
 "Doctor Dickinson is one of the big stockholders in the 
 syndicate," was the prompt reply. "I understand he's put 
 a hundred thousand dollars in." 
 
 "I reckon this Doctor Dickinson and Bodine are pretty 
 close then?" 
 
 "I should say they are," said Wayne. "The doctor 
 never gets tired of talking about Bodine. He thinks there 
 is nobody like him." 
 
 "Does he?" asked Tarrant sharply. 
 
 "He certainly does," was the emphatic answer. "I tell
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 53 
 
 you, Spence, this man Bodme is a wonder. He impresses 
 and attracts everybody he talks to operators, investors, 
 men or women. He's a born winner. You must go down 
 to the Falls." 
 
 "I will," said Tarrant, suddenly. "Yes, I sure will do 
 that little thing."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHEN the ultimate historian, in the distant future, 
 completes the record of the forces which have as- 
 sisted in determining and molding the character of this 
 country his labors will be incomplete unless he appreciates 
 the importance of the story of the oil booms of the South- 
 west. Climate, soil, and resources, material and human, 
 serve to create the fires from which rises the spirit which 
 men speak of as the soul of a nation. How could the 
 spirit of a nation be anything but one of overweening 
 optimism when the earth itself turns out surprises and 
 millions beyond the wildest dreams of its people? 
 
 The oil craze was one of the outbursts of colossal, raw 
 forces which, like mighty, unknown springs suddenly 
 welling forth, ever and anon burst into the current of 
 American life, expanding, accelerating, unsettling and 
 finally molding the destiny of her people. The fertile farm 
 lands of the central area, the precious metals of the West, 
 the timber of the North, each had its day, its fire, its 
 hammer and anvil to beat upon the metal of the nation. 
 The oil force comes most recently of all; its importance 
 and influence are yet to be determined. 
 
 Beneath soil upon which farmers and ranchers toiled 
 ceaselessly for a scant livelihood there lay hidden the force 
 which was to revolutionize life in this section of the coun- 
 try. As always happens the hidden resource in time finds 
 the men for its purpose. The right men came to the oil 
 fields, and suddenly the mode of life there was upset, gal- 
 vanized; the old discarded and thrown away, the new 
 
 54
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 55 
 
 entered upon hecticly. The land was filled with a horde 
 of little machines panting for gasoline. Crude oil leaped 
 in price until old-time operators doubted their eyes. The 
 broad, rolling sweep of the oil-field country, illimitable 
 as the untrammeled sea, was suddenly covered with men 
 of a type too vital for the slower industries, too energetic 
 for reflection. By the thousands they came, translating 
 the energy of the American spirit into fabulous accom- 
 plishment, tearing into the bowels of the earth where the 
 oil by hidden. 
 
 The country saw a torrent of galvanic force come pour- 
 ing forth, carrying humans away on its flood, some to 
 wreck and ruin, some to unbelievably great and easy for- 
 tunes. It spread across the land. In its wake rose modern 
 cities, skyscrapers, gilded hotels, smoky industries, crudely 
 sybaritic homes, boulevards. In its wake men would lie 
 ruined and broken; on its crests some would ride to ma- 
 terial glory. It was not theirs to say. The oil determined 
 their fate. It was the force, a power which none could 
 resist, a thick, black torrent of liquid gold, bearing all men 
 in its path on to strange destinies. 
 
 The city of Ranger Falls was one of the dramatic mani- 
 festations of this force. Man of his own free will would 
 not have selected it as a site for a city. The location was 
 far from logical. Far from the natural flow of popu- 
 lation, it had long existed in its environment of poor soil 
 as a dejected cattle town. Climate and water were equally 
 unfavorable; and the Rio Canyada, trickling over a two- 
 foot ledge to give the place its name, was at times a muddy 
 streak through the prairie ; or, after cloud-bursts, a raging, 
 impassable torrent. But there was oil beneath that barren 
 topsoil, and a city rose out of the cow town. Where, a
 
 56 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 few years before, lean, brown-faced riders had tied their 
 wiry ponies to a well-chewed hitch rail, a hundred motor 
 cars, ranging from small service cars to glistening limou- 
 sines, were parked at the proper angle decreed by the traffic 
 committee of the Chamber of Commerce. There was gilt 
 on the uniforms of coloured elevator men in the office 
 buildings, and the gilded youth of the town were wearing 
 slim-waisted coats belted in the back. 
 
 Tarrant had known the Falls when it was what it would 
 have continued to be till sunk in the dust of time save for 
 the oil boom, but he found the new city more to his liking. 
 A tub bath was a relief from the necessary daily showers 
 at the well, and the service at the barber shop and the food 
 in the dining room of the Jake Stringer House were grati- 
 fying after weeks in the field. Night was drawing on 
 when, carefully refreshed and groomed, he seated himself 
 in the lobby and looked about. 
 
 Jake Stringer had erected the hostelry that bore his 
 name out of the first million dollars of his oil royalties. 
 It was twelve stories from lobby to roof garden, and the 
 governor's suite had as deep carpets as any room in New 
 York. Guests sat in their rooms and dropped a dime in a 
 slot and an electric fan soothed the fevered brow for thirty 
 minutes by the clock. Smoothly gliding elevators, oper- 
 ated by attendants in maroon and gilt, whisked one up to 
 the roof where a coloured orchestra produced jazz, or 
 down to a gilded lobby where a white orchestra on a bal- 
 cony functioned similarly. "Silk shirts laundered at own- 
 er's risk" warned a red line on the laundry slips ; and Jake 
 Stringer sat on a rocking chair in the lobby with a fly bat 
 in his fat hands and killed flies. This constituted his work 
 and his recreation.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 57 
 
 "Always wanted to," he explained. "Never hada 
 chance before. Darn it!" as he missed. "I'll get him 
 yet!" 
 
 The supply of flies never diminished, so Jake was quite 
 content with his famous establishment. 
 
 "Evening, Spence, evening," greeted Stringer, as he 
 saw Tarrant. 
 
 "Hello, Jake," said Tarrant. "Killing many this 
 evening?" 
 
 "Oh, tol'able, Spence, tol'able," replied the boniface. 
 
 "I " Swish! "Darn that old bluebottle! Fooled me 
 
 twice now. Say, Spence, you know that option of yours 
 on my section of the old 88 Ranch up northwest of you is 
 pretty nigh petering out, don't you?" 
 
 "Want to buy it back, Jake?" asked Tarrant instantly. 
 
 "Who? Me? Me " The proprietor of the Jake 
 
 Stringer House paused to miss another fly "me buy back 
 that damn wildcat territory? I ain't crazy yet, even if 
 certain other parties are." 
 
 "Who, for instance ?" demanded Tarrant. 
 
 "That" swish! "new Pan-National Syndicate," re- 
 plied Stringer. "They're a pack of hungry lease hounds 
 if there ever was one." 
 
 Tarrant considered a moment. The tract under con- 
 sideration adjoined the Tin Spout field on the northwest, 
 and was such rank wildcat territory that Tarrant had ac- 
 quired an option on the lease which Stringer held on the 
 section when he first began to operate in the Tin Spout 
 field, just as he had secured other options and leases which 
 were available. His efforts to locate the great pool of oil, 
 which his geological knowledge, experience and faith told 
 him must lie somewhere in the Tin Spout field, had so far
 
 58 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 proved unavailing, and he had sold several leases and let 
 various options lapse to acquire capital to continue drill- 
 ing. There had been no market for the 88 Ranch option 
 save at a losing figure, so he had held on. It was one of 
 the gambles which oil operators make as a matter of 
 course, and he had come to regard it as a probable loss. 
 With the news that someone else had queried concerning it 
 the tract instantly rose in value. 
 
 "Does the Syndicate want it?" he asked. 
 
 "So far as I can make out, Spence," replied Stringer, 
 "that Syndicate wants everything up there they can get 
 hold of." 
 
 "Did they make you an offer?" 
 
 "I didn't give them a chance," was the response. "They 
 wouldn't offer anything worth sneezing at now, but by 
 the time your option runs out there ought to be a market 
 for everything up there, if they make their boom good. I 
 wouldn't renew even with you, Spence. I've got sixty 
 days after your option expires to renew in, and I expect 
 I'll be able to do some right smart dickering in those same 
 sixty days. We're friends, Spence, so I wanted to remind 
 you. You look sharp when your option expires if you 
 expect to renew. I'm not playing any favourites then, and 
 I'm telling you it will be first come first served." 
 
 "If I'm wanting it then I'll aim to be first," said Tar- 
 rant. 
 
 "Then you'll have to step pretty," Stringer retorted, as 
 he rose to go, "because if it comes to a race I'm telling 
 you you're hooked up with some mighty fast company." 
 
 Tarrant was glad when Stringer had gone. He had 
 not come to Ranger Falls to talk about oil leases. In fact 
 he had not come on oil business at all. He had come be-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 59 
 
 cause the girl who had spoken up for Nine Spot was at 
 Ranger Falls. A hunger had grown in his heart for an- 
 other sight of her young beauty. There had been little 
 beauty in his life. A career in the oil fields, especially if 
 one has a penchant for wildcatting, is not apt to bring one 
 in contact with aught that is not rough and hard and ugly. 
 
 Tarrant had worked in many oil fields. He had fought 
 with mother earth and her mud and rock and water to 
 drive his drill down to where the pay sand lay. Inevitably 
 he had fought with other men, men bent on the same per- 
 formance, or upon hindering him or acquiring the pro- 
 ceeds of his labours. And he had fought with fate, the 
 whimsical fate of the oil fields, which inspires, tantalises, 
 enriches and ruins. 
 
 A battering sort of existence. But Tarrant had not 
 become battered within. The blows which fate dealt him 
 had left no dents. Instead they had served only to harden 
 the steel temper of his being. From a grinning care-free 
 rider of the Texas ranges he had, under the tension of his 
 oil experiences, become toughened and saturnine. Still 
 young enough and fresh enough to know the wild romp- 
 ings of a cowboy's heart, he had developed a degree of 
 external hardness and control which marked him for the 
 grim oil gambler that he was. Long hours on the crown 
 block and platform, beneath the broiling Texas sun, had 
 given his face and neck and hands a thick coating of 
 dull red, as if to assist in the protective shell of hardness 
 which he was developing; and after the manner of his 
 kind, he hid this hardness under a mask of ready smiles, of 
 drawled jests and stories and laughter. 
 
 He was sensible of the hardening process, however. 
 Somewhere in him there was bred a strain of delicacy
 
 60 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 which craved something finer than life so far had offered 
 him. As he struggled with the muck and grime of well 
 drilling he dreamed. The women who followed the oil- 
 men into fields had no place in these dreams. In fact it 
 was not until the day he saw the clean, blue-eyed girl with 
 the fair hair step into his field of vision that he discovered 
 that his dreams might have an embodiment. 
 
 A hunger had awakened in him as he looked at her, 
 and it had grown. She was at Ranger Falls, and he was 
 determined to see her again. 
 
 "Young man, are you an oilman?" 
 
 Tarrant started from his dreams as a man seated him- 
 self in the next chair and boomed the words into his ear. 
 The newcomer was portly and middle aged. His apparel 
 and demeanour proclaimed him a prominent citizen, and 
 moreover, one who was entirely appreciative of his po- 
 sition. 
 
 "I have not been in Texas long," said he, "but I flatter 
 myself I can recognize the different types when I see 
 them. You, I think, are an oilman." 
 
 Tarrant breathed hard before replying. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said he. 
 
 "In the oil game, eh !" beamed the newcomer. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "It is a great game, young man." 
 
 Tarrant offered no response, but his demeanour plainly 
 expressed a willingness to allow the conversation to end. 
 
 "What I want to know," continued the stranger, "is 
 just how you know there's oil down there?" 
 
 "You do?" said Tarrant, and in the mildly rising inflec- 
 tion the prosperous one, had he been observant, had he 
 been trained to see or hear anything but the most obvious
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 61 
 
 in short, had he been anything but what he was might 
 have caught a hint to warn him that this quiet young man 
 was not a simple young man, but being rather well im- 
 mured in the shell of his own self-importance the man was 
 entirely impervious to any such impression ; and he moved 
 himself nearer fraternally. 
 
 "Yes. For instance, you're going to drill a new well. 
 Got your stock out, and so on. Now, tell me this : how do 
 you know there is oil down there?" 
 
 Tarrant deliberated, apparently allowing this forcefully 
 delivered question to sink home. 
 
 "Down where, sir ?" he asked mildly. 
 
 "In the ground." The important citizen's pudgy fore- 
 finger impatiently indicated the floor. "How do you know 
 it is there?" 
 
 "We don't," said Tarrant. 
 
 "You don't? Then how do you know where to drill? 
 What methods do you use in locating your wells ?" 
 
 "Well, different companies use different methods," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Employ geologists. I know that, of course." 
 
 "Most do. That's the accepted way of locating wells. 
 Yes, sir, that's the way." Once more Tarrant's tone im- 
 plied that perhaps this was as good a place as any to 
 terminate the conversation, but the prominent citizen 
 would have none of it. 
 
 "What other methods are there?" he demanded, and 
 the die was cast. 
 
 "Oh, there are lots of other methods," replied Tarrant 
 "Some folks still stick to the old peach twig." 
 
 "I've heard of superstitious people hunting water that
 
 62 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 way," said the stranger. "Water witches, they used to 
 call them. Superstitious nonsense " 
 
 "Yes," interposed the young man, "but that was a dif- 
 ferent kind of twig." 
 
 "Diff " 
 
 "Yes, sir. You see, when they first came down here 
 and began hunting oil that way they found their water 
 twigs wouldn't work. They'd walk over a lease and the 
 twig would twist, and when they'd drill they wouldn't hit 
 anything but water. So they set out to develop what they 
 call the oil peach the Petroleum Perfection, to call it by 
 its right name. You've probably heard of it, sir?" 
 
 "No, I can't say I have." 
 
 "They just grow them for the twigs. Fellow over in 
 Arkansas has got a whole ranch planted to them. Sends 
 his children to college and drives round in an eight-cylin- 
 der car, all just on growing those twigs. He fertilises 
 with crude petroleum, that's his secret. The trees are 
 black and oily, and they run the fruit through a presser 
 and get pretty fair low-gravity crude out of them. Of 
 course, twigs grown that way would naturally point to 
 oil instead of water and you see that's the idea." 
 
 The prominent citizen's eyes began to bulge. Men be- 
 gan to gather round who knew Tarrant. They listened 
 solemnly. 
 
 "That's a new one to me," admitted the stranger. 
 
 "Yes, sir," agreed the young man, with a simple shake 
 of his head, "it's a great game." 
 
 "What are the other methods you spoke of?" 
 
 "Outside of geological location and twigs, you mean? 
 Well, there's some companies use the patent clock. You've 
 heard of that, I reckon. It's a patent a fellow down in the
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 63 
 
 Corsicana field got out. Something like an alarm clock. 
 Do you know what an anticline is, sir? Well, it's a geo- 
 logical term ; anticlines and domes are what you look for. 
 Well, this clock is rigged up to find them. It's mighty 
 sensitive. You take and put it on a thin copper plate so 
 as to have a good conductor, and then you drag it slow and 
 easy over your lease. When you get on an anticline she 
 lets go and strikes, like an alarm clock getting you up in 
 the morning. Fellow's wife left him, that invented them. 
 She was a Kaintucky girl and they didn't get along." 
 
 The prominent citizen now began to comprehend. That 
 last irrelevant touch about the inventor's matrimonial af- 
 fairs had done the work. Sort of a fool this young fellow 
 was. Strange, there was something rather shrewd about 
 his face, too. 
 
 "Well, young man," he burst forth in kindly fashion, 
 "I hope you don't utilise either of those haphazard meth- 
 ods in locating your wells ?" 
 
 "No, sir." The young man's countenance lighted up a 
 trifle, probably in gratitude for the older man's solicitude. 
 
 "I should think you would find it a rather uncertain 
 business under those circumstances," persisted the stran- 
 ger. 
 
 "Yes, sir, it sure is." 
 
 "Rather full of ups and downs, isn't it?" 
 
 Tarrant sat up. 
 
 " 'Ups and downs' ! Now you said it. That's what it 
 sure is. Ups and downs, and hard luck." 
 
 A certain look of recklessness showed on Tarrant's face. 
 "I ran into a mess of it once that would have surprised, 
 you," he said. 
 
 The prominent citizen smiled patronisingly.
 
 64 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "I doubt if it would have surprised me," said he, crisply, 
 "considering what I've heard. What was it?" 
 
 "A big well we brought in," replied Tarrant. "A 
 gusher. It certainly was a real old-fashioned spouter." 
 
 "What was the hard luck?" 
 
 "Well," said Tarrant, "it was one of those things that 
 will happen in the oil business. That gusher just naturally 
 caught me unawares. We had the hole swabbed out be- 
 cause we were in the pay sand and we were waiting for 
 the nitroglycerin to come so we could shoot her, and then 
 she blew herself in." 
 
 "Ah, I see; you weren't prepared for it." 
 
 "No, sir, we weren't prepared for it, as you say. Par- 
 ticularly I wasn't. I was sitting right over the casing. A 
 fellow is apt to do that, you know, after a long hard job. 
 That gusher came in without a whistle of gas to warn me, 
 and it just naturally carried me up with it, and the first 
 thing I knew there I was up eighty feet in the air sitting 
 on a solid column of oil with nothing to hang on to. 
 
 "Gushers don't flow steady, you know. If it had I 
 would have been fairly well fixed. They come in by heads. 
 One minute I'd be up there eighty feet above the casing 
 head, the next the column would drop until I'd be getting 
 ready to jump; then, swoosh ! up I would go again. It got 
 mighty monotonous after three or four hours." 
 
 The stranger managed to gasp : "Three or four hours ?" 
 
 "Of course, when you're shot up like that there's noth- 
 ing to do but wait until they bring the extension ladder 
 round and pick you off. Regular machine, you know; 
 run it up alongside of the gusher and swing the ladder 
 up to you I reckon you've heard of them, sir?" 
 
 "No," gasped the other faintly, "no !"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 65 
 
 "Of course the boys sent off a hurry call for the ladder, 
 but word came back that they'd gone out on three jobs 
 west of us and couldn't possibly figure to get round to me 
 before dark. 
 
 "It sure was hard. The boys tried every way to save 
 me. Once when I was down so low Elmer jumped and 
 pretty near got my foot. After that she came stronger, it 
 seemed. The boys did what they figured best, I'll say that 
 for them." 
 
 The prominent citizen finally broke the awe-stricken 
 silence. 
 
 "Wha-what did they do?" 
 
 "Roped me." Tarrant was looking straight ahead, ap- 
 parently seeing nothing, his countenance a study in unut- 
 terable woe. 
 
 "Roped you?" 
 
 "Yes, it was all they could do. Elmer did it. He used 
 to punch cows in the old days. He he got him a rope and 
 waited until she was down and then he he roped me. 
 Swung his rope and dropped the noose over my shoulders 
 pretty as you please and pulled hard." 1 
 
 "Wha what happened ?" 
 
 Tarrant leaped up with a gleeful howl and smote the 
 prominent citizen upon the back. 
 
 "What happened?" he bellowed joyously. "Why, darn 
 it, old-timer, what could happen? He just naturally 
 yanked me off that column of oil and broke my neck!" 
 
 The outburst that followed was too much for the 
 pomposity of the victim. He bridled and purpled with 
 outraged dignity. 
 
 "That's one on you, doctor !" bellowed an oil operator. 
 "The cigars are on Doctor Dickinson !"
 
 66 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Dickinson?" gasped Tarrant. "Doctor Dickinson?" 
 
 "Who is that young fool?" spluttered Doctor Dick- 
 inson. 
 
 "That's Spence Tarrant," volunteered a bystander. 
 "He operates up in the Tin Spout field." 
 
 "Indeed?" said the doctor. "Tarrant t Tarrant! I 
 shall not forget him."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 r I ^ARRANT was vexed. He was vexed with himself, 
 with Doctor Dickinson and with fate in general. He 
 had not wished to talk about oil. He had not wished to 
 talk at all. The doctor had brought it upon himself. But 
 that was beside the question. He had made an enemy of 
 Doctor Dickinson. There was no mistaking the anger 
 and hatred, bred of offended dignity, that had flushed the 
 doctor's rather full countenance and hardened his eyes. 
 And the doctor was the girl's father ! 
 
 "Been meeting Doctor Dickinson, Spence?" piped a dry 
 feminine voice at his elbow. "What an elegant man he 
 is, ain't he ? And such a lovely daughter as he has got." 
 
 Tarrant hid his mood successfully. 
 
 "Good evening, Mrs. Stringer," said he, bowing low to 
 the speaker. "You get younger and prettier every day." 
 
 Mrs. Stringer flashed the large diamonds upon her 
 fingers. It was only a few years before that Judy Stringer 
 was wearing her life away cooking for Jake Stringer 
 and four hands on the Stringer Ranch, but her jewels and 
 her gowns now came from Fifth Avenue "New York," 
 as she was careful to add. 
 
 "Yes," she retorted good-humouredly, "and my hair 
 gets blacker every day I dye it, too." 
 
 "You don't!" groaned Tarrant. "Don't tell me you 
 do." 
 
 "Why shouldn't I admit it ?" was the response. "Ain't 
 we rich? Of course I dye my hair. And I have my face 
 
 67
 
 68 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 massaged every day and I don't eat enough to feed a bird. 
 Think I'm going to have Jake sit here all day and look at 
 young, slim girls, and then come home to a gray-haired, 
 fat old woman ? Not while Judy Stringer has a tiny piece 
 of brain left working." 
 
 "But you are dazzling to-night," continued Tarrant 
 solemnly. "Don't tell me, Judy, you get yourself up like 
 this every night?" 
 
 "All lit up like a plush horse, ain't I, Spence?" she 
 laughed, regarding her gown and jewels with complacency. 
 "I may not be any vamp, but I guess I ain't so hard to look 
 at, if you wear smoked glasses." 
 
 "I'm telling you straight, Judy," said the young man, 
 "the only thing that keeps me from shooting Jake and 
 kidnapping you is the fact that Jake is my friend." 
 
 "Now ain't that nice of you to say that?" chuckled the 
 lady. "Spence, you do tell the nicest lies. That's what 
 women like. Hey! What are you talking about being 
 dressed up? Man, you're dressed up fit to kill, your black 
 self!" 
 
 "I was figuring I'd meet you," persisted Tarrant. 
 
 "Jake, come here and listen; I want you to get jealous." 
 
 "It's too hot," muttered Jake, "too damn hot." 
 
 "There you are," said Mrs. Stringer resignedly. 
 "What's the use?" 
 
 "Doctor Dickinson stopping 1 here?" asked Tarrant 
 casually. 
 
 "You don't think there is any other place in town fit for 
 a man like the doctor to stop at, do you?" was the prompt 
 retort. 
 
 "I reckoned there wasn't," said Tarrant. "The doctor
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 69 
 
 and Bodine and all that crowd, I reckon they all stop here 
 too?" 
 
 "Of course," replied Mrs. Stringer. "Mr. Bodine's 
 out of town to-day, so the doctor feels sort of lost" 
 
 "You said the doctor had a daughter too?" came the 
 casual remark. 
 
 "The loveliest girl I ever laid eyes on," said Mrs. 
 Stringer fervently. "I am entertaining her on the roof 
 to-night myself." 
 
 "Adios then," said Tarrant quickly; "don't let me keep 
 you." 
 
 He watched the honest woman flounce herself into one 
 of the ornate elevators. His heart was beating high again. 
 He waited a short time, then stepped into an elevator and 
 said "The roof." 
 
 The elevator shot upward and came to a stop and 
 Tarrant stepped out into a glare of coloured lights and 
 jazz. 
 
 "Check your hat, sir.'* 
 
 "Reservation, sir?" 
 
 The lights were strung among the artificial vines which 
 wreathed in and out of the trellis-work above and about 
 the place. The head waiter looked upon all guests without 
 reservations with contempt. The jazz orchestra was 
 composed of madmen. In nothing did the Stringer Roof 
 lack the requisites of a successful roof garden. 
 
 Tarrant took a table in a corner and ordered luxuri- 
 ously. Having ordered he rose, lighted a cigarette and 
 strolled about the promenade. At a vine-covered pillar 
 which hid a dark corner he paused and a thrill went 
 through him. A slender figure was standing in the corner 
 peering through the trellis out upon the somber mystery of
 
 jo Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 a prairie country at nightfall. Her back was toward him, 
 and she was wearing an evening gown, with a cloud of 
 mauve tulle about her shoulders, but Tarrant knew her, 
 and he stopped, his courage suddenly gone. 
 
 "Mrs. Stringer," said the girl softly, "what are those 
 funny little lights twinkling way off there ?" 
 
 "Those are derrick lights," said Tarrant gently. 
 
 She turned and saw him. 
 
 "Why, it's the man who ordered the apples !" she cried. 
 
 "My name is Tarrant, Miss Dickinson," said he. "I 
 told you I would see you again." 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I remember." 
 
 "Thank you," he said gravely, "I hoped you would 
 remember." 
 
 "It was that darling little pony," she explained gayly; 
 "I couldn't forget him." 
 
 "The pony didn't say anything about seeing you again, 
 did he?" 
 
 "No," she said unabashed, "but I kept thinking of him. 
 That was how I remembered what you said." 
 
 "I see," he said gravely. "I hope you have found 
 Ranger Falls more civilized than Tin Spout." 
 
 "Well," she said, "it's lovely up here, at least. And to 
 think oil built this !" 
 
 "Yes, oil did it all," said Tarrant. "This is the end of 
 the oil game that the public knows about the money end, 
 the promotion end, the flash of new oil wealth. But look 
 out there." He pointed out through the trellis-work. The 
 soft darkness of the Southwestern night was creeping up 
 from the earth. Beyond the town a constellation of twink- 
 ling stars seemed suspended close to the ground. 
 
 "Derrick lights," he repeated.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 71 
 
 He pointed out the thick clusters of lights in the de- 
 veloped fields and far away the widely scattered lights 
 where the boldest of wildcatters were drilling test wells. 
 
 "That is the real oil game," he said. "Out there where 
 geologists are giving the best in their brains, and oper- 
 ators the best in their pockets, and roughnecks the best 
 in their bodies, is where the great oil industry is made 
 possible. That is where the production is made, by the 
 real producers. They produce. And out of their work 
 springs all this and a world of other things besides." 
 
 "I should say they do," came the voice of Mrs. Stringer 
 over his shoulder. "What I say is, God may have put that 
 oil there, but it certainly raises the devil when it gets out. 
 Spence, I didn't know you knew Miss Dickinson." 
 
 "He does not know her," boomed a voice behind her. 
 
 Doctor Dickinson strode forward, led Marjorie to one 
 side and whispered savagely to her. She cast a bewildered 
 look at Tarrant and, taking her father's arm, allowed her- 
 self to be led across the floor and out of sight. 
 
 "What have you done?" demanded Mrs. Stringer, 
 alarmed at the obvious displeasure of the doctor. And 
 then she had occasion for alarm at the change in Tar- 
 rant's expression, for he strode past her grimly silent, his 
 mouth hard, his eyes blazing, his expression nothing in the 
 world but a threat. 
 
 "I've always said," she proclaimed as she seated herself 
 at the table with Marjorie and her father, "that you never 
 can tell about men in the oil business. What in the name 
 of Sam has Spence Tarrant done, Doctor?" 
 
 Dr. Dickinson had recovered his poise, and the spec- 
 tacle of Tarrant's discomfiture afforded him considerable 
 satisfaction.
 
 72 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "You know that person, Tarrant, do you, Mrs. 
 Stringer ?" he returned. 
 
 "Well," said Judy Stringer dryly, "I have a speaking 
 acquaintance with him at least. He used to ride for Jake 
 when we were ranching. What's he done?" 
 
 The doctor refused to come to the point so directly. 
 
 "Then you are quite familiar with the young man's 
 character or lack of it, Mrs. Stringer?" said he urbanely. 
 
 Mrs. Stringer hesitated. Her first impulse was to 
 flare up in Tarrant's defense, but, as she looked down at 
 her gown, which had come from Fifth Avenue New 
 York she realised that her present elevated position for- 
 bade her the simple honesty and directness of the ranch 
 days and imposed upon her a certain degree of diplomacy. 
 The social distinctions were making themselves felt in 
 Ranger Falls; Dr. Dickinson was much sought after; and 
 as his hostess Mrs. Stringer had incurred the usual social 
 obligations. 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm not much of a judge of character, doc- 
 tor," she perjured herself. 
 
 "The young man in question," said Dr. Dickinson, "is 
 rather too wild for polite society. Yes, rather too wild. 
 I am amazed at his effrontery in speaking to Marjie as 
 he did, amazed and indignant." 
 
 "He's pretty amazing, Spence is, coming right down 
 to cases," agreed Mrs. Stringer. 
 
 "I met Mr. Tarrant at Tin Spout," said Marjorie. 
 
 "Who introduced you, Marjie?" asked her father. 
 
 "Nobody!" she laughed, brightening a little as she re- 
 lated the tale of Tarrant and the bucking pony. 
 
 "And he spoke to you?" persisted her father. 
 
 "I spoke first, as I told you," said she. "I spoke to all
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 73 
 
 of them; I think I scolded -them a little. Mr. Tarrant 
 was one of the crowd." 
 
 She did not relate, however, how he had asserted his 
 determination to seek her out at Ranger Falls. Dr. Dick- 
 inson studied her closely as her countenance lighted up 
 with youthful excitement as the thrilling scene came back 
 to her, and his lips drew together in the same ruthless 
 lines as Marjorie had observed on the faces of some of 
 the men at the station. It hurt her to see that look on 
 her father's face. He was he had been too fine a 
 father, too fine a man to allow himself to grow mean and 
 hard like that. 
 
 "I suggest that we change the subject," said he coldly. 
 "I do not care to go into details rather, it is impossible 
 to go into details but I have recently come into posses- 
 sion of certain knowledge concerning this man this 
 Tarrant which places him quite beyond the pale. Mar- 
 jorie, you must remember that you are not at home, but 
 in a strange place where, although most of the people are 
 very fine, there are a few who are not only impossible 
 but dangerous, viciously dangerous. One must be careful 
 here. I am sure Mrs. Stringer will agree that I am 
 right?" 
 
 "I reckon you are, Doc'," replied that worthy lady 
 cautiously. 
 
 "Especially must a girl like you be careful, Marjie," 
 continued the doctor. "There are reckless characters here 
 terribly reckless." 
 
 "But don't you worry, honey," assured Mrs. Stringer, 
 watching the girl's face. "You got your pa to look after 
 you. You're all right." 
 
 "Yes !" Marjorie looked up at her father with a smile
 
 74 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 breaking over her countenance. "Yes." The smile faded 
 abruptly. What was in her father's mind? Why was 
 he appraising her with that strange expression on his 
 face, an expression she had never seen there before? 
 Why did it fill her with a sense of helplessness, of danger? 
 What did it mean?
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 npARRANT returned to his table and dined in apparent 
 * content. Friends and acquaintances, seeing him sit- 
 ting alone, tendered him invitations to join their parties, 
 but he steadfastly declined. The best of him was stirred 
 and troubled. The moment alone with the girl had blessed 
 him and cursed him at the same time. His spirit had 
 risen to the call of the vision she presented. Her beauty 
 and what lay in the depths of her eyes, had given him a 
 glimpse of something finer than he had known. It had 
 whetted the hunger in his heart. He knew there would 
 be no contentment for him in his old life after this. The 
 slip of a girl had suddenly become more significant in 
 his eyes than all the oil wells in the world. He cursed 
 himself for a half-baked fool. Why had he been so reck- 
 less as to pull the stranger's leg without considering his 
 identity ? He had made a hopelessly bad impression upon 
 her father, who obviously had passed his impression on to 
 the girl. 
 
 Tarrant paid his check, tipped lavishly after the man- 
 ner of oilmen, and descended to the street. It was deep 
 night by now. The vast darkness of the illimitable prairies 
 had closed about the town, surrounding it and rolling up 
 unlighted streets like a foreboding wall which shut out 
 Ranger Falls from visible relationship with any other 
 portion of the earth. Main Street and its lights alone 
 repelled the darkness, a tiny scar of incandescence in a sea 
 of night. Here and there tiny twinkles gleamed impo- 
 
 75
 
 76 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 tently on derrick tops, where the night towers were pound- 
 ing away through the dark hours, and high above them 
 in the soft Southwestern sky the stars looked down, a 
 hint of the vastness of the universe, of the insignificance 
 of man and his works. 
 
 "Man, you look glum," spoke a soft voice at Tarrant's 
 side. "You must have hit salt water up at Tin Spout." 
 
 "Hello, Arkansaw," greeted Tarrant, recognising the 
 slight figure of the young gambler who was widely known 
 in the oil fields. "Running a game here?" 
 
 "Trying to, Spence," replied the youngster. "Things 
 have livened up a little lately." 
 
 "How come?" 
 
 "Well, that new Pan-National Syndicate crowd hasn't 
 hurt any," was the dry reply. 
 
 Tarrant became alert at once, though not even Arkan- 
 saw's sharp eyes could detect the change in his mood. 
 
 "They play a little, do they?" he asked casually. 
 
 "A little," agreed the gambler with a slight smile. 
 
 "Many of them?" asked Tarrant. 
 
 "Oh, so, so," replied Arkansaw. "The head of the 
 works is the live wire, though. He certainly does play a 
 stiff game." 
 
 "Who is that?" queried Tarrant indifferently. 
 
 "Mr. Bodine, the president," said the gambler. "Yes, 
 sir, he sure 'nough does shake things up when he sits in." 
 
 "Does he sit in often?" 
 
 "Every night, Spence. He's got the habit." 
 
 Tarrant yawned elaborately. 
 
 "I'd like to see one of those plungers at work," said 
 he. "I don't reckon there's any chance, though. I hear 
 Bodine is out of town.'*
 
 i Tarrant of Tin Spout 77 
 
 "Yes, but he is coming back on the ten-five," said Ar- 
 kansaw, "and Old Man Swanson and Piper and a couple 
 others with big wads are in, and Bodine told me to look 
 for him about ten-fifteen." 
 
 "I may drift over and look on," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Too bad about you looking on," said Arkansaw with 
 a grin. "Are you well hooked up? If you aren't I'll 
 stake you." 
 
 "Thanks, Arkansaw," replied Tarrant. "I reckon I've 
 got enough to look in." 
 
 Tar rant's course when he eventually moved to find 
 the nefarious establishment of young Arkansaw led him 
 away from the lights and crowds of Main Street down a 
 dark side street which was near the railway station. A 
 new brick building with a Greek restaurant occupying the 
 first floor attracted his attention. He went leisurely round 
 to the rear and entered a tiny hallway. No lights were 
 visible anywhere about the rear of the building. So far 
 as external evidences were concerned the place was de- 
 serted. 
 
 Tarrant put his left hand on the wall and carefully 
 moved down the hallway until in the Stygian darkness 
 therein his feet found the first step of a narrow staircase. 
 Still retaining touch of the wall with his hand he mounted 
 slowly, his right hand extended before him. When his 
 hand came in contact with a door he fumbled until he 
 found a dangling rope and pulled. No sound or effect 
 apparently rewarded the effort, but Tarrant stood still. 
 Presently a slight grating noise was heard and a hole of 
 light the size of a man's hand appeared in the center of 
 the door. Tarrant placed his face close to the hole. The
 
 78 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 door opened and he stepped in and closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 There were four tables in the brilliantly lighted room, 
 all devoted to the reprehensible diversion of gambling with 
 cards. At one a neat, white-haired old reprobate sat 
 quietly drawing cards out of a small metal box, thereby 
 holding the rapt attention of the three patrons of the faro 
 layout. The next table was devoted to the form of enter- 
 tainment variously known as vingt et un, twenty-one, or 
 black jack, the latter being the name under which it was 
 played here. The third table held an engrossed group of 
 draw-poker players, a house man sitting in to care for the 
 establishment's interests in the game. 
 
 Arkansaw presided personally over the fourth table. 
 From the evidence, which consisted of chips and cards, 
 it might have been supposed that this table was devoted 
 to the sinful and deleterious diversion of playing poker. 
 It is said, however, that there is a degree of sanity and 
 reason some have asserted there is science to be en- 
 joyed by the participants in a game of poker, and in the 
 nerve-racking pastime which Arkansaw superintended 
 there was exactly such sanity and reason and science as 
 might be experienced in a duel with sandbags in the dark. 
 The game flourished here under the descriptive appellation 
 of Crazy Sue, and it was further described as "seven-card 
 stud, table stakes, deuces and joker running wild." 
 
 Seated at the table were a member of Congress, a mule 
 skinner with a yellow diamond in his red shirt, a New 
 York banker, a lawyer, a railway manager, the head of the 
 local bootlegging combine, and a white-haired, red-faced 
 oil millionaire known as Old Man Swanson. 
 
 "Tarrant Tarrant!" greeted this individual explo-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 79 
 
 sively. "Here you are sit down. Don't give a demn 
 for expense ; going 1 to have a good game here to-night !" 
 
 "Swanson," said Tarrant as he seated himself, "what 
 part of Sweden do you come from?" 
 
 "North Dakota!" responded Swanson promptly. 
 
 "I wanted to know," continued Tarrant, "so if I ever 
 went foreign I'd know where not to go. Venerable, white- 
 haired man like you inviting promising young men to join 
 you in your descent into Avernus! You ought to be 
 ashamed." 
 
 "You bet !" agreed the millionaire heartily. 
 
 "Young man," said the congressman, "this is a serious 
 offense against the laws of the state. Will you give us 
 your money quietly or must we take steps ?" 
 
 "Deal the cards," said the skinner tersely. 
 
 Men who play Crazy Sue with their entire rolls as the 
 limit for a single bet have no scattering interests, no idle 
 words after the cards begin to fall. Conversation ceased. 
 Men bet, passed, dropped out, or called with a mono- 
 syllabic economy of language. At first an occasional 
 chuckle or an oath was to be heard from the table, but as 
 the game developed its tenseness became such as to forbid 
 even the briefest of exclamations. Mouths grew pursed 
 and eyes narrowed. Each player's hat slipped gradually 
 forward, shading his countenance, and Arkansaw settled 
 the green eye-shade of his calling more closely over his 
 brows. 
 
 Tarrant won from the beginning. The deuces seemed 
 to gravitate to him, and usually they were hidden so the 
 strength of his hands was not exposed. A run of luck 
 in that game sometimes meant a fortune, for the players 
 one and all were there solely for the thrill of gambling.
 
 8o Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Tarrant's original roll doubled and trebled. He did not 
 pause to estimate his winnings, but with his own roll left 
 them on the table as his stake. 
 
 The railroad man, cleaned out, rose and left the room. 
 An oil operator, seeing the size of the pile before Tarrant, 
 took the vacant seat. The congressman lost the thousand 
 dollars he had brought and departed. An oilman took his 
 place. Swanson, who had lost more than anyone, cashed 
 a check and kept his seat. Tarrant had over eight thou- 
 sand dollars as winnings when Arkansaw rose at the flash 
 of a red light to open the door for a tall, heavy man whom 
 he greeted as Bodine. The bootlegger, whose seat was 
 opposite Tarrant, promptly rose and cashed in. 
 
 "All right, Sam," said Bodine crisply and took the 
 vacated chair. 
 
 Tarrant, in the act of dealing, glanced casually across 
 the table. 
 
 "Are you in?" said he, and allowed his eyes to rest on 
 Bodine. 
 
 "I am," said Bodine. 
 
 Tarrant dealt a card to each player and waited. While 
 he did so he shot another glance at Bodine. To his sur- 
 prise the big promoter was looking at him steadily, but 
 he in no wise permitted this to interfere with his scrutiny 
 of the man. He recognised in Bodine a man of great 
 force, of boldness and native power. The promoter was 
 one of the type which is produced so often among the 
 high executives of industry, large of body and bone, round 
 or square of head, surcharged with vitality, and concealing 
 a primitive ruthlessness beneath an exterior of well- 
 groomed cheerfulness. Bodine smiled fraternally across 
 the table.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 81 
 
 "You're Tarrant, aren't you ?" he asked. 
 
 Tarrant nodded. 
 
 "Can I see you at my office at ten to-morrow morning?" 
 
 Tarrant's reply was another nod. 
 
 "All right," said Bodine. "Who's betting?" 
 
 The promoter seemed to dominate the game as a matter 
 of course. Power and confidence and success radiated 
 from him. He was surprisingly young in appearance, his 
 heavy build alone belying the youthful pink of his square, 
 clean-shaven face. Tarrant watched his eyes and saw 
 them following every move of the dealer's fingers. 
 
 Tarrant's run of luck hesitated, descended to a trickle 
 and gave out. Bodine now became the winner. He 
 played swiftly and heavily, a bullying game yet a careful 
 one. When he dealt his large hands moved too swiftly 
 for the eye to follow. The pace began to tell on the other 
 players. One by one they dropped out until only Tarrant, 
 Bodine and the mule skinner remained. Tarrant was 
 playing cautiously. He now had some seven thousand 
 dollars before him and Bodine's onslaughts upon the pile 
 were in vain. The skinner, sensing the struggle that was 
 on, cashed in and sat back. A group of spectators gath- 
 ered in silence about the table, and silently Bodine and 
 Tarrant bucked one another. 
 
 The break came on Tarrant's deal. Bodine, growing 
 impatient, tried a bluff and was called. There were nearly 
 four thousand dollars in the pot when Tarrant raked it in. 
 
 "Bring us a new deck, Arkansaw," called Bodine. 
 "We'll quit piffling." 
 
 "Got a cigar, anybody ?" he demanded, rummaging his 
 pockets with his swift hands while the new unbroken deck 
 lay before him. "Thanks!"
 
 82 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 His large hands swept up the cards and tossed them 
 across to Arkansaw. 
 
 "Break the seal and shuffle them," he directed. 
 
 After Arkansaw had complied Bodine took the cards 
 and passed them to Tarrant for the cut. He dealt the 
 first card. Tarrant, raising one corner of his card, saw 
 that he had the joker and shook his head. 
 
 "Pass," said he. 
 
 Bodine also passed, and dealt the second cards face up. 
 Tarrant received a deuce, Bodine the ace of spades. Tar- 
 rant bet a hundred dollars. Bodine mouthed his cigar a 
 moment, then pushed forward his entire stake. 
 
 "It goes for ten thousand dollars," said he; "it's time 
 to break up." 
 
 By all the rules of the game Tarrant was constrained 
 to meet the bet. 
 
 "There's only about nine thousand here," he said, push- 
 ing in his stack. "Show-down for that." 
 
 Bodine nodded and dealt, Tarrant a four and himself 
 a trey. He dealt on until next to the last card. On that 
 deal Tarrant received a nine-spot and Bodine one of the 
 vital deuces. There was a pause. Men were breathing 
 hard about the table, but the two players were apparently 
 unconcerned. 
 
 "Throw her face up," said Tarrant. 
 
 His last card fell before him. It was a queen. Bodine's 
 card was a deuce. 
 
 "What have you got hidden?" demanded Tarrant as 
 he turned up his joker. 
 
 "Enough to beat you," said Bodine and turned up the 
 third deuce in his hand. 
 
 Tarrant rose.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 83 
 
 "You're a miracle man sure enough," he said signifi- 
 cantly, but Bodine was apparently too busy pulling in the 
 pot to notice Tarrant's words or the tone in which they 
 were uttered. 
 
 "Ten o'clock to-morrow, Tarrant?" said he. "You 
 won't forget, will you?" 
 
 "Not anything," replied Tarrant quietly. 
 
 "By cripes!" exploded Old Man Swanson when the 
 door had closed after the promoter. "I want to see that 
 deck." 
 
 "No !" said Tarrant, and swept the cards into his brown 
 hands. "Not after he has gone. I paid for them," he 
 concluded with a smile : and tore the cards into small bits, 
 and scattered the pieces upon the floor.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 T\ ,TARJORIE sat alone in her suite in the Stringer 
 **-- Hotel. She was very tired for it was well into the 
 morning part of the night after her arrival. Her father 
 had heard of Bodine's return to town and had prolonged 
 the evening on the Roof in the hope that the great man 
 would appear. Bodine had come straight from the poker 
 game; and there had been a dance and a supper, swiftly 
 and lavishly organised by Bodine in her honor. And 
 Marjorie, listening to the snatches of conversation be- 
 tween dances, found her world entirely upset. 
 
 Bodine was her father's idol and master. She sensed 
 this at the first meeting, and she resented with filial loyalty 
 the spectacle of her own father playing sycophant to any 
 man. At the same time she recognised the force and at- 
 traction of the promoter's personality. There was no 
 chance for her to fail to recognise that. She felt it when 
 she danced with him; the touch of his fingers conveyed 
 the magnetism of the man, to which she with her virginal 
 youth was so responsive. She felt it when his eyes were 
 upon her, and she wished her party dress had covered her 
 shoulders which Bodine found so attractive. Each time 
 she rose to dance with him a tiny sensation of dread, of 
 distaste, moved within her, but at the touch of his hands, 
 of his arms, this was forgotten. His capacity for domi- 
 nation repelled her until she was under the spell of his 
 phsyical magnetism.. And then each time she responded 
 to this attraction girlishly, yielded to it, gave herself up 
 to the clasp of his arms. 
 
 84
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 85 
 
 Yet now she felt anything but thrilled. She felt sapped 
 of her youthful buoyancy and wanly wondering what was 
 responsible. Hitherto, when in doubt she had always 
 turned to her father in complete confidence for a solution 
 of her problems, but his present attitude toward her for- 
 bade that. She bridled as she recalled the slavishness 
 with which he listened to Bodine's words. In Bodine's 
 manner she sensed a tingle of contempt for the man who 
 allowed himself to be so shamelessly obsessed by the lure 
 of oil speculation. She marvelled that her father could 
 not see it. He was blind, that was the trouble; blinded 
 by the glitter of swiftly made wealth. She longed to 
 throw her arms about his neck, to sit on his knee, to pet 
 and cajole him, and to draw comfort and confidence from 
 his presence. She needed him as a father now perhaps 
 as she had never needed him before; and Dr. Dickinson 
 at that moment was studying for the dozenth time the 
 closing figures from the Oil Exchange and regretting im- 
 patiently that several hours intervened before the Ex- 
 change opened again. 
 
 As they parted Mr. Bodine casually had said to her 
 father: "I met that fellow Tarrant from Tin Spout, this 
 evening, Doctor." 
 
 "Yes ?" suggested Dr. Dickinson eagerly. 
 
 "Quite a fellow, to judge by a brief meeting," said 
 Bodine. "He's coming at ten in the morning to see me." 
 
 "Then," affirmed Dickinson, "you will have him in the 
 Syndicate before noon and the field will be clear for us 
 up at Tin Spout." 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that," returned the promoter care- 
 lessly. "He looks like he might have ideas of his own. 
 Of course he can't be allowed to interfere. I will attend
 
 86 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 to that. The field at Tin Spout will be clear for us when 
 we want it." 
 
 Mar j one rose wearily to prepare for retiring. She 
 paused for a moment before a mirror and regarded her- 
 self critically. No ; the little gown she wore was not at all 
 too low about the neck. She had worn it to several parties 
 before and had not felt conspicuous. It was when Bodine 
 looked at her that she felt it was too low. Yet her father 
 said he was a great man and that Tarrant was impossible. 
 Funny thing; she hadn't even thought of her shoulders 
 when Tarrant looked at her. His eyes She wondered 
 abruptly how Mr. Bodine would attend to him, and she 
 was wondering when she dropped into bed and fell asleep. 
 
 Tarrant approached the offices of the Pan-National 
 Syndicate on the stroke of ten in the morning. As be- 
 fitted the character of the business transacted therein, 
 there was little suggestion of crude oil about these offices. 
 They occupied the entire front of the second story of the 
 fourteen-story Bob Wilk Building on the most important 
 business corner of Ranger Falls. Bob Wilk had struck 
 oil on his ranch a year after fortune had come to Jake 
 Stringer, but when Jake proceeded to win fame by erect- 
 ing the luxurious hostelry which bore his name, Wilk 
 saw his twelve floors and raised him two more. 
 
 The Syndicate occupied the most expensive suite in the 
 building. It was an impressive office. One had but to 
 enter the outer door and gaze upon the expensive furniture 
 and fittings to realise that here abode wealth and success. 
 There was nothing present to mar the effect with a sug- 
 gestion of the muck and tribulation incidental to oil pro- 
 duction. True there was a fresco of large panoramic 
 photographs of oil wells about the walls. These wells were
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 87 
 
 all gushers, the photographs being taken with the oil plume 
 waving high above the crown block of the derrick. To 
 supplement the photographs there was a series of impres- 
 sive geological maps which showed in simple, undebatable 
 fashion that beneath every lease of the Syndicate there 
 lay a great pool of oil awaiting only the drill bit to spout 
 fortune into the hands of those sufficiently intelligent and 
 enterprising to purchase Pan-National Syndicate stock. 
 
 Tarrant stood in the entrance of the suite and studied 
 the photographs and the maps and legends, and wondered. 
 The finale of the poker game the night before did not sit 
 comfortably in his memory. Wayne had let slip the infor- 
 mation at Tin Spout that Bodine had been a profes- 
 sional gambler before entering the oil industry. He had 
 been unable to detect any improper performance on the 
 part of Bodine, but he was not satisfied. He considered 
 the photographs of the oil wells that hung before him. 
 The pictures were obviously intended to impress persons 
 unfamiliar with oil production in that field. On Tarrant 
 they made an impression of such a nature that when he 
 was shown into the private office of the President of the 
 Pan-National Syndicate he was fully on his guard. 
 
 Bodine sat at the head of a long table in the room. To 
 his right and left sat two of the best lawyers in the state. 
 The railway manager and the congressman who had been 
 at Arkansaw's the night before also were present. It 
 was truly a formidable array, as Bodine had planned it 
 should be. Tarrant appraised each man individually, and 
 as he sensed that each was ruled by one idea, and that 
 idea emanating from Bodine's mind, he turned to him. 
 
 "Sit down, Tarrant," said the promoter. "Have a 
 cigar ?"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "If you don't mind," said Tarrant, "I'll roll my own." 
 
 Bodine nodded and glanced at a sheaf of papers before 
 him. 
 
 "You had a talk with Mr. Wayne, I believe, Tarrant?" 
 said he. 
 
 "Wayne talked to me," replied Tarrant. 
 
 "Yes. I told him to ask you to run down and see me." 
 
 "So he said." 
 
 Bodine paused for Tarrant to continue, but the pause 
 was in vain. 
 
 "I suppose Wayne said something about the Pan- 
 National Syndicate ?" suggested the promoter. 
 
 "Something," agreed Tarrant. 
 
 "Did he explain our future activities in the Tin Spout 
 field?" 
 
 "He raved considerable, yes." 
 
 "Did he make a favourable impression, may I ask ?" 
 
 "Who? Wayne?" chuckled Tarrant. "He didn't have 
 to; I know him too well. He's a good little scout even 
 if he has got a bad case of oil fever." 
 
 None of them smiled. Apparently this was too serious 
 for humour. 
 
 "We are capitalising for a hundred millions," said 
 Bodine after a pause. 
 
 "So W T ayne said." 
 
 "We've got the log of every well that's been drilled 
 in the Tin Spout field," went on the promoter. "I've had 
 my own drillers working as roughnecks on every gang 
 up there. We know how many barrels are produced by 
 each productive well, and how many are not producing. 
 We know just how much expenses have increased labor, 
 material, and so on and how production has not in-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 89 
 
 creased. We know the Tin Spout field to the last dollar, 
 Tarrant." 
 
 "And still you capitalise at a hundred million?" said 
 Tarrant slowly. 
 
 Bodine nodded. 
 
 "Tarrant," said he, "we know the Tin Spout field, its 
 past, present and future." 
 
 "Whoap! Hold up!" Tarrant held up his hand. "You 
 may know the past of that field, Bodine, since you have 
 had your spies in there, and you probably know its pres- 
 ent; but when any man talks of knowing the future of a 
 big oil field he's kidding himself that he's got hold of 
 secrets that the Lord keeps mighty close to Himself." 
 
 "Not quite," said Bodine. "We know the future of 
 that field, and I can prove it to you." 
 
 "How come?" 
 
 "The future of the Tin Spout oil field is going to be 
 just what the Pan-National Syndicate decides it shall be," 
 came the answer. "No more, no less." 
 
 Tarrant shook his head slowly. 
 
 "I have driven holes in a lot of oil fields, Mr. Bodine," 
 said he, "but I never got confident enough to make a re- 
 mark like that." 
 
 "W r e are confident enough," retorted Bodine. "I will 
 explain later. Let's get down to cases, Tarrant. You 
 have got to admit that your operations have scarcely been 
 on a big scale." 
 
 "Not yet," agreed Tarrant. 
 
 "Your methods have been good enough," continued 
 Bodine, "but they belong to a past era in the oil business. 
 This is a new day, in this as well as other industries. 
 [You have played the oil game solely as a game. As you
 
 90 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 follow it I don't mean you alone, but all operators like 
 you it is entirely a gamble. You may hit something with 
 your drill bit and you may not. Now that's not business, 
 Tarrant ; it isn't efficiency. Good business men don't make 
 a gamble of business any more ; they organise along cer- 
 tain efficient lines. The day of efficiency has arrived, in 
 this business as in all others. The haphazard, inefficient 
 man cannot exist in it any more than he can in any other 
 line. Two things are inevitably necessary to-day organi- 
 sation and efficiency. They do the trick, Tarrant; they 
 convert the oil business from a gamble to an industry." 
 
 "Don't tell me you've got a sure way of telling where 
 to drill!" protested Tarrant. "I spent a couple of years 
 studying geology and some more years in gaining experi- 
 ence and I haven't got a sure system yet." 
 
 "There you are ; the very words : 'a sure system/ " said 
 Bodine, smiting his desk. "A 'sure system.' That's what 
 we have got, Tarrant. Confess, now, you get pretty sick 
 of the game when the luck runs against you?" 
 
 "I'm human," admitted Tarrant. 
 
 "And you've often wished to high heaven you could 
 devise a system that would guarantee certain returns ?" 
 
 Tarrant nodded, and Bodine leaned forward, patting 
 his desk earnestly with his big hand. 
 
 "Tarrant," said he, "that is just what the Pan-National 
 Syndicate offers every leaseholder and operator in the Tin 
 Spout field, and you, with your big acreage, are particu- 
 larly situated to benefit from affiliation with us. We can 
 guarantee not only certain returns, but returns greatly in 
 excess of your greatest expectations. As an experienced 
 oilman, knowing the Tin Spout field as you do, consid- 
 ering the wells drilled and your undeveloped acreage, you
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 91 
 
 can estimate approximately what your expectations may 
 be. Very well. Make your estimate and double it. Turn 
 it in. We will accept it and guarantee you mind, guar- 
 antee you returns double your best expectation. Does it 
 sound like a proposition a good business man can refuse 
 to listen to?" 
 
 Tarrant looked out of the window. 
 
 "You are not telling me the secret of your system, I 
 suppose, Bodine?" said he. 
 
 "I am as soon as I know you are in the proper mood 
 to receive it.'' 
 
 "You don't reckon I am in that mood now ?" 
 
 Bodine spread his hands with an open gesture. 
 
 "You are a business man, so am I," said he. "I don't 
 flatter myself that I am able to sell a proposition to a man 
 like you at the first meeting. I know you came in here 
 prejudiced against the Syndicate. If I am any judge of 
 men you are not the sort of man to drop a prejudice easily. 
 I didn't expect to kill that prejudice with a few words. 
 I don't expect to be able to convert you to our point of 
 view at once. You will have to be shown. All we ask 
 is the opportunity to show you. I want to know if you 
 are willing to listen further to our proposition." 
 
 "If I wasn't willing to listen to such a proposition I 
 ought to be in a home for feeble-minded," said Tarrant, 
 "but I've got to see your log before I go any further than 
 that." 
 
 "Just right," said Bodine appreciatively, "just right. 
 You have got to be shown something real." He turned to 
 his associates. 
 
 "Gentlemen, Tarrant is a hard man to sell the idea to," 
 said he. "He is the true discoverer of the Tin Spout field,
 
 92 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 and the largest producer and leaseholder up there. Nat- 
 urally we want him with us ; and I believe we are agreed 
 that we are prepared to be extremely liberal with him?" 
 
 The others nodded. Bodine turned back to Tarrant. 
 
 "Through the medium of our organisation and our con- 
 nections with other organisations and banks throughout 
 the country," he resumed carefully, "we have accurate 
 knowledge that never before has there been such an 
 amount of money available for oil-development purposes. 
 The money of the country, in large and small quantities, 
 is ready and eager to get behind the oil industry. The 
 boom we have had is only a drop in the bucket to what is 
 coming. This knowledge is the basis of our organisation." 
 
 "Everybody knows the country is full of sucker money 
 just now," drawled Tarrant. "That isn't news. What 
 I want to hear about is your sure system." 
 
 "All right/' said Bodine, "here it is : A selling organisa- 
 tion that can place $50,000,000 worth of oil stock in five 
 months." 
 
 "Tin Spout stock?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "With investors and scouts prowling round and seeing 
 those little shallow wells brought in?" 
 
 "Not a single well to be brought in," flashed back Bo- 
 dine. "Understand, Tarrant? Stop all production in- 
 stantly. Seal the wells. Place guards all round. Then 
 an advertising campaign that will make Tin Spout na- 
 tionally known as the one big promise in the oil game. 
 Not an ordinary haphazard boom, Tarrant, but a care- 
 fully organised campaign that is certain of success. No 
 campaign of the sort ever has been started by such an 
 organisation as we have or with such a sure guaranty of
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 93 
 
 success. We offer you a sure thing for a gamble. Now 
 we are ready to talk figures." 
 
 Tarrant took a long time before replying. 
 
 "You said I was the true discoverer of the Tin Spout 
 field," he began. "Well, I'm not. The true discoverer 
 of that field hasn't showed up yet. The Tin Spout field 
 has not been discovered yet." 
 
 "You are talking about that fairy story, the big pool?" 
 said Bodine with a smile. 
 
 "That is just it, the fairy story, the big pool," admitted 
 Tarrant. "It has busted me three times by actual count. 
 I am still drilling for it. I have got a new wildcat started. 
 I will continue drilling. That's what I am up there for." 
 
 He stood up. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I am not sitting in with you," he said; "I 
 am staying out simply as a matter of cold, hard-headed 
 business. I am not criticising. The country is full of 
 fools waiting for somebody with oil stocks to take their 
 money, and I have no soft notions about it, though I don't 
 happen to be interested that way myself. But you talk 
 of making the future of the Tin Spout oil field. Why, 
 men, that future was made when the process of geological 
 evolution determined the formation up there. Any geol- 
 ogist will tell you that. You've got a big organisation and 
 a fine system, and you talk in millions, but I am telling 
 you I think you are a lot of pikers. I am playing the Tin 
 Spout formation to win against your sure system. You 
 can organise; you can put your sure system of stock 
 selling into effect. But when you talk of controlling 
 what this old earth holds then, gentlemen, you are defy- 
 ing God!"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HP ARRANT had expressed the faith which was his 
 * inspiration. 
 
 The mental equipment of the true oil hunter is a 
 compound of geological knowledge, hard experience and 
 faith. Perhaps the latter is the important ingredient, for 
 it is faith which drives the oil seeker on after geology and 
 experience have told him to halt. Tarrant's faith had 
 been lighted by the Tin Spout field. All his geological 
 knowledge and all the practical oil wisdom he had gleaned 
 from a varied experience in many fields told him that a 
 great oil pool must exist here or science and experience 
 be counted as naught. Other operators had drawn the 
 same conclusions about the field, had drilled, gone broke, 
 cursed and gone away. Fortunes had been lost and men 
 had been ruined in purse and spirit in the search for the 
 great pool. 
 
 Tarrant had continued to drill after others had lost 
 their nerve and quit. The small wells he had brought in, 
 which had attracted other operators and which had re- 
 sulted in the creation of Tin Spout, represented to him 
 only the working capital upon which he drew for the 
 funds to prosecute his search for the great pool. Each 
 hole he drilled might bring in the golden aim of his quest; 
 but he was hard-bitten by experience and his refusal to 
 enthuse over the possibilities saved him from heart-break- 
 ing disappointments. 
 
 He drilled enough test wells to cover the proven area 
 
 94
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 95 
 
 of the Tin Spout field; and then he began to wildcat, a 
 term which has been perverted in usage and meaning. In 
 the true wildcatter of the oil fields the old-time prospector 
 of the West has his reincarnation. He is the restless 
 visionary, the dreamer of the industry. He it is who 
 "spuds in" a day's march beyond the practical crowd 
 "out where the wildcats howl," hence the term. Like 
 the old-time prospector of buried decades, padding his 
 lonely way over desert and mountain in the van of the 
 mining men, so the wildcatter searches for his favourite 
 structure in regions where the oilmen have not reached. 
 
 Dishonest promotion schemes involving test wells have 
 thrown the term into disrepute, but it is the wildcatter, 
 with his faith in himself and his instinct for exploration, 
 who finds the new oil fields, which, usually, others develop 
 and profit by. 
 
 Tarrant's No. 5 wildcat well was one of the hundreds 
 of wildcat wells which are drilled each year on faith. The 
 restlessness of the idealist had driven him out of the 
 proved field. He had located a structure that appealed 
 to him. It lay to the south of the Tin Spout field, in a 
 region covered with scrub oak. A portion of the operators 
 in that field had laughed at him when he had spudded in 
 there. These were mainly the younger men. The old- 
 timers had said nothing, knowing from experience both 
 bitter and kind that only one thing is certain about oil 
 drilling, and that is its uncertainty. 
 
 Tarrant returned to Tin Spout in a grim frame of 
 mind. The picture of Bodine and his associates about the 
 conference table, a group of hard-headed men desperately 
 resolved upon high fortune, had made a deep impression 
 upon him. He had appreciated fully the significance of
 
 96 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 their entry into the Tin Spout field. It marked the end 
 of the happy-go-lucky operation that had prevailed there. 
 Tense days were coming. The Syndicate was playing for 
 high stakes. The idle money of the people of the whole 
 country was their prospective loot; Tin Spout was to be 
 the bait. Their organisation was a machine. Once the 
 machinery had been set in operation anything or anyone 
 threatening to interfere with its functioning would be 
 ruthlessly crushed. 
 
 He stopped his car on an elevation on his wildcat lease 
 one evening upon leaving the well and looked back at the 
 site. The new timbers of the derrick rose above the green 
 tops of the scrubby trees, and the sound of the engine and 
 the machinery came faintly to his ears. All about there 
 was the great open country. In Tarrant's mind passed 
 a review of the history of that section the Indians, the 
 white hunters, the free-range cattlemen and a few pioneer- 
 ing farmers. These had passed on. Their passage had 
 scarcely scratched the landscape, and had left it unsettled. 
 Oil had not been discovered there then. The crude oil 
 was of greater power than all the forces previously at 
 work in the section. 
 
 The well was only an insignificant interruption to its 
 barrenness. But what the well stood for was potent be- 
 yond compare. The derrick and other derricks which 
 speckled the landscape represented potential wealth. They 
 were potent enough to stir the instinct of greed in the 
 souls of desperate men. Because of the oil which lay 
 somewhere beneath the barren topsoil of the region, men 
 came prowling thither avidly. The new well in the un- 
 tamed scrub oak symbolised the true quest for crude oil.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 97 
 
 Its power reached out, luring men with its promise, en- 
 slaving them, deciding their destinies. 
 
 Men like Doctor Dickinson and Bodine. And not only 
 men. The fate of women, too, was linked with the prom- 
 ise held in these derricks. Tarrant's mind held a picture 
 of Marjorie Dickinson, and the circle of oil-maddened 
 men of which she, through her father, had become 
 a part. With the picture ran the memory of how she had 
 turned away from him on the roof garden at Ranger 
 Falls, and as he drove on to town his intense nature was 
 seething vehemently and his countenance was clouded and 
 grim. 
 
 A change had come to Tin Spout almost overnight. It 
 was not merely that there were more people in town. 
 Often in its past history, after a new well had been 
 brought in there had followed incipient booms with a con- 
 sequent influx of visitors oilmen, prospective investors, 
 lease hounds and the riffraff which follows them remain- 
 ing only long enough to discover that the field did not 
 promise richly, and moving away. 
 
 TRere was a new spirit present now. As Tarrant drove 
 up the muddy street and stopped at the garage for gasoline 
 he was conscious of a heightening tension. Strangers were 
 present in considerable numbers. A large tent was being 
 set up near the box-car station; a pile of cots lay beside 
 it; and on a post pounded hastily into the ground was a 
 crude sign, "Beds." A passenger train of two coaches 
 stood on a siding, the cars empty and steam up in the 
 locomotive. 
 
 "That's a special from Ranger Falls," explained the 
 garage man, "brought up a crowd of Pan-National Syndi- 
 cate people and a lot of investors. Going to take them
 
 98 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 back this evening. Man named Doc Dickinson is in 
 charge; guess they're sure 'nough going to make this 
 man's town hum. You joined in yet, Spence?" 
 
 "No," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Going to, though, ain't you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 The garage man showed resentment. 
 
 "Everybody else is," said he. "Look at 'em flocking 
 about Doc Dickinson up there." 
 
 The syndicate party having completed its inspection of 
 the near-by field was on its way back to the train. Doctor 
 Dickinson was in the lead and at his side, Tarrant saw 
 with a leap of his heart, was Marjorie. He turned away. 
 A sudden shout from up the street recalled his attention. 
 A crowd of men had come rushing out from the pool 
 parlor directly in the path of the visitors. A man came 
 running to the garage. 
 
 "Tarrant," he shouted, "old Elmer is in a jam !" 
 
 When Tarrant reached the scene he saw his foreman 
 calmly mounting the load of casing he had come after, 
 while at the head of the four-horse team a burly oil worker 
 stood and cursed furiously. 
 
 "You can't put it over on me," growled the roughneck. 
 "Get off that load!" 
 
 Elmer seated himself calmly and gathered up the reins. 
 
 "You hear me?" snarled the man in the street. "You 
 can't ring in phony dice on me. Get down !" 
 
 "Science will overtake luck," retorted Elmer noncha- 
 lantly. "Giddap." 
 
 "No, you don't !" The roughneck precipitated himself 
 at the horses' heads. "You cheap sure-thing artist, you'll 
 stay right here till I get my jack. Hand it over."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 99 
 
 "Out of the way, boy, out of the way," said Elmer 
 calmly. 
 
 "Hand it over !" growled the other. "If you don't I'll 
 climb up there '' 
 
 A long, slender whiplash sang through the air and 
 snapped like a pistol shot against the roughneck's body. 
 The man instantly reached inside his shirt and drew forth 
 a large hunting knife. 
 
 "You " he roared. "I'll come up there and cut 
 
 your heart out!" 
 
 "No need to do that, feller; no need at all." 
 
 The demeanor of the old foreman indicated that he con- 
 sidered such a dire threat as the proper and inevitable 
 sequence to the demonstration of his prowess with the 
 bull whip. He wasted no time or energy upon any of 
 those outbursts of profane language and threatening ges- 
 tures usually considered necessary as the prelude to a 
 conflict. Without uttering a word and with an expertness 
 of motion which suggested a frequent participation in 
 such affairs he wound the reins about his whipsocket and 
 slid down to the earth, drawing as he did so a long clasp 
 knife which produced a six-inch blade at the touch of a 
 spring. Having done this he started toward his antag- 
 onist in a most businesslike manner. This sudden ac- 
 ceptance nonplussed the challenger so thoroughly that for 
 a moment he stood speechless and motionless. 
 
 "No need climbing up, feller," drawled Elmer, as he 
 came on. "I'll come to you." 
 
 He was a very wicked-looking old skinner now, and the 
 roughneck retreated slowly. 
 
 "Stop where you are!" he cried, laying the knife flat
 
 ioo Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 In his hand and drawing his arm back. "I'll throw it 
 through you." 
 
 The party of visitors had retreated at the first glimpse 
 of the knife in the roughneck's hand. At the sight of 
 Elmer the retreat became a panic-stricken flight. The 
 door of the pool parlor suddenly became jammed by a 
 crowd of appalled citizens all trying to find shelter at 
 once. On the outskirts of the jam Doctor Dickinson was 
 to be seen, his full face the color of tallow, striving to 
 claw a way through the pack of the more nimble-footed. 
 
 "Better throw it, feller," said Elmer, never halting a 
 step. "I'll be all over you in a minute." 
 
 The roughneck swung his knife hand low at his right 
 hip. 
 
 "Stop him, Tarrant!" cried someone. "You're near 
 him." 
 
 "So is Elmer," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Now, hombre," said Elmer as he stopped within arm's 
 length of his opponent, "be you going to throw that knife 
 or ain't you?'" 
 
 The other made one or two attempts to complete the 
 movement he had begun, but the spirit and the flesh were 
 not willing. He stood undecided. 
 
 "No, you don't!" cried Elmer. "No, sirree! You don't 
 get me off my load for nothing ! You're going to throw 
 that knife or put it up and eat your mess of crow." 
 
 The roughneck wilted completely. His knife soon was 
 closed and returned to his pocket. The tension was over. 
 
 "I knowed it, you know!" chortled Elmer remounting 
 his load. "Hard ones don't bellyache about losing a bet. 
 Giddap."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 101 
 
 The danger over, Doctor Dickinson recovered his poise 
 promptly. 
 
 "The ruffians!" he spluttered. "Who are they? Their 
 names !" 
 
 "The tall one is Tarrant's foreman," replied a by- 
 stander. 
 
 "Tarrant ? I thought so," snapped the doctor. "When 
 we institute our operations we shall take steps to eliminate 
 such ruffians from the field." 
 
 Marjorie walked by his side toward the train. She 
 looked straight ahead and Tarrant saw that her cheeks 
 were flushed.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE Pan-National Syndicate had chosen its time with 
 scientific accuracy. It was the psychological hour 
 for an oil boom. In a measure such a phenomenon was 
 an inevitable outcome of the time and the national situa- 
 tion. Good times had prevailed for a sufficient period to 
 make the citizenry of the land, man for man, the richest 
 this world has ever held. A fierce native optimism, bred 
 of this very plethoric condition and of a na'ive disinclina- 
 tion to face life squarely, had resulted in a nation of a 
 hundred millions ripe for the plucking. Bankers had a 
 surplus of deposits in excess of their opportunities for 
 loans; business men had more capital than the operation 
 of their enterprises required; farmers bought land at in- 
 sanely high figures; workingmen received pay envelopes 
 marked with figures such as they never had held before ; 
 even the millions of working girls throughout the land 
 had money. 
 
 In Detroit a man inevitably named for the mission he 
 was to accomplish had for years been steadily inculcating 
 the nations' millions with a new habit. Others might 
 seek to provide the fortunate few with the means to motor 
 luxury; this master builder was fated to make the great 
 body of his fellow Americans take to gasoline, via the 
 internal-combustion engines. By thousands the produc- 
 tions of his genius rolled out upon an eagerly welcoming 
 populace, and the year's product of a gusher oil well was 
 swallowed by them in a day. 
 
 IO2
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 103 
 
 Synchronously with the acquisition of this habit by the 
 American people, grew the development of the oil-burning 
 engine upon the seven seas. Gradually but inevitably the 
 carrier bottoms of the world were turning from the cum- 
 bersome coal and warping in to piers where pipe heads 
 dripped a thick, black trickle of fuel oil. The internal- 
 combustion engine in the motor vehicle and the oil burners 
 upon the ships had turned the trick. They had changed 
 the world. A new era was ushered in. Brilliant geologists 
 died in Burma jungles, desperate adventurers froze in the 
 Arctics; and the great Tin Spout oil boom became pos- 
 sible because of it all. For the engines must be fed. 
 
 Old mother earth must be further harrowed and pierced 
 to yield the power necessary to help drive her stumbling 
 children forward on their troubled path. The world had 
 to have more oil. It was the new magic, the liquid gold. 
 The word alone drove men mad. It drove them mad 
 enough to believe that if they invested a hundred dollars 
 they would receive in return ten or a hundred times as 
 much. Few knew what an oil well is. All knew what an 
 oil share is or was. The popular hypnotism of the hour 
 was complete. 
 
 Thus, in the oil fields, two great industries sprang up 
 where but one had flourished before. The serious but 
 thrilling business of drilling deep holes in the earth in 
 search of crude petroleum developed an activity and in- 
 tensity such as the industry had not witnessed since the 
 long past days of oil discovery in Pennsylvania. Where 
 formerly a scattering of derricks reared their heights over 
 a drab landscape now solid forests of them cluttered the 
 view. Where earth's treasure of oil had been drawn up
 
 104 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 in a slow trickle now it was pumped in a steady flood. 
 The production of oil boomed. 
 
 But greatly as this solid industry flourished, its growth 
 was slow and undramatic compared to the pyrotechnical 
 leap into full-blown life of the other industry which 
 flashed at its side. The "oil boomers" held the stage. It 
 was their activities that stunned, dazzled and left agape 
 the public. Their stories filled the papers; their towns, 
 rising overnight, appeared in word pictures in the maga- 
 zines. The meteoric effulgence of the great boom pro- 
 moters, men of vision and boldness incomparable, caught 
 and held the public attention. The public knew of a great 
 industry only through their lenses of magic. The public 
 accepted the improbable promises of these men. The 
 public, as usual, paid. The evidences of the boom to 
 come began to appear in Tin Spout without delay. 
 
 One morning as Tarrant went to the post office for his 
 mail he saw a switch engine shunting a string of freight 
 cars onto a siding. Before the wheels of the cars had 
 fairly stopped a crowd of workmen was swarming over 
 the train and unloading the building material which com- 
 prised its freight. A gang of carpenters was hastily re- 
 modeling and enlarging a one-story building in the middle 
 of the town's single street and fitting its front with the 
 first plate-glass window in Tin Spout. Painters were 
 working upon the heels of the carpenters, painting the 
 building a clean white in contrast to the raw, dust-colored 
 lumber of the other buildings. Hardwood flooring was 
 being laid, and under a tarpaulin outside lay highly pol- 
 ished desks, tables, chairs and other items of expensive 
 and showy office equipment. There was much work re- 
 maining to be done on the building, but a large new sign
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 105 
 
 already was hung across its front. Men were standing 
 in the mud of the street reading with eager eyes the in- 
 scription : 
 
 PAN-NATIONAL SYNDICATE 
 GENERAL OFFICES 
 
 "Know what that means, Spence?" demanded Ross, a 
 local real-estate man, as Tarrant came up. 
 
 "I can read," replied Tarrant. 
 
 "It means that the boom has hit Tin Spout !" was the 
 exuberant retort. "The Miracle Man is going to get busy. 
 I hear you haven't taken any stock in the Syndicate, Tar- 
 rant?" 
 
 "You have heard right," responded Tarrant. 
 
 "Most of us are shutting down for the present," sug- 
 gested an oilman. 
 
 "I noticed that." 
 
 "Yes ; it is part of the Syndicate's plan," returned Ross. 
 "No wells completed until sufficient capital has been as- 
 sured for our great drilling campaign to begin. Outside 
 people won't invest in a field when dry holes and little 
 wells like your Number 4 are the best that we can show." 
 
 "No," said Tarrant, "and I think they are right." 
 
 "Of course they are! That's the idea. Cut out the 
 dusters and dribblers completely. That's why we are 
 shutting down. You know people would rather invest 
 in a big promise than back a small sure thing. That's 
 human nature, isn't it?" 
 
 "I suspect it is," agreed Tarrant. "I know that's my 
 failing." 
 
 "Then why don't you come in with us and shut down ?" 
 demanded Ross.
 
 io6 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Who? Me ?" Tarrant prepared to go on. "Why, you 
 see, boys, I am in the oil business. My game is drilling 
 wells. So long." 
 
 He realised that a new attitude toward himself was 
 beginning to assert itself in the attitude of his old friends 
 and neighbors. He did not blame them. He had seen 
 the promise of sudden oil wealth turn men mad with greed 
 too often to be surprised at it. Bodine had "sold" his 
 syndicate idea to these people just as later on his organi- 
 sation would sell the stock to a multitude of investors. 
 The boom held a promise of wealth to the people of the 
 Tin Spout field ; and they would not have been human had 
 they not resented one of their number appearing as an 
 obstacle to the fulfillment of the promise. 
 
 Tarrant realised fully in what character he now ap- 
 peared to his neighbors. He realised fully, also, that for 
 him the die was cast. The people did not know. No one 
 would tell them. He knew, and so did Bodine. They 
 understood one another grimly, Bodine and Tarrant, but 
 the townspeople saw only a stubborn operator holding out 
 against a great, beneficent organisation. In his wildcat 
 operations Tarrant had sought to place the stock in the 
 hands of those whose circumstances justified their partici- 
 pation in a sheer gamble. The confidence which had been 
 bred by his success in the field had, however, interfered 
 with such a program. Stock in Tarrant General, which 
 was issued against all his properties, was mainly in the 
 hands of prosperous investors, while men and women 
 who had not money sufficient for a decent livelihood had 
 invested in his most desperate gambles. 
 
 "The wilder the wildcat the more eager fools are to
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 107 
 
 buck its claws," he had decided. As a consequence hun- 
 dreds of shares which he had issued against the No. 5 
 test well were in the hands of people eager to do anything 
 which might give their useless certificates some value. 
 
 Tarrant's first knowledge that Bodine's agents had been 
 working among his stockholders was when a committee 
 of them called upon him at his office. Ross, the real- 
 estate man, was spokesman and his tale was briefly told. 
 The Pan-National Syndicate offered a way for the stock- 
 holders to realise upon their investments. If the Tarrant 
 interests were merged with the Syndicate's the dead stock 
 would be converted, share for share and dollar for dollar, 
 into the shares of the Pan-National. Having spoken thus 
 Ross stepped back, and instantly a babble of arguments 
 and pleas broke upon Tarrant from the other members 
 of the committee. The young man waited until they were 
 done. 
 
 "You gambled, didn't you?" he said. "You were 
 warned to stay off this stock, but you were bound to burn 
 your fingers. Now you are squealing. To get back your 
 little stakes you want me to put all I have got all I expect 
 to get in the hands of men who are my enemies. Do 
 you think I am playing for chicken feed ? Listen !" He 
 rose at the call of a sudden thought. "You say you had 
 confidence in me or you would not have invested. Have 
 you confidence in me now?" 
 
 "Yes," shouted several. 
 
 "All right, we'll see. I will make you this proposition : 
 Turn in your wildcat stuff to me. I will return, dollar 
 for dollar, shares in Tarrant General. That includes 
 every well I drill. I won't make any promises, as the
 
 io8 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Pan-National has done. I won't say any more. Now 
 let's see." 
 
 "I thought so," he resumed after a pause. "No sale. 
 All right. That's all." 
 
 "Tarrant," said Ross, "how many more wells do you 
 figure you'll drill in this field alone ?" 
 
 "Enough to break me hopelessly or bring in the big 
 pool," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "We don't!" screeched the spokesman, "And that's why 
 we want to do business with the Pan-National. We don't 
 think you'll drill any more wells in this field." 
 
 "They'll squeeze you out!" 
 
 "My offer stays open," responded Tarrant grimly. "And 
 the door is open, too."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 QPENCE, you'd better come out and take a look at 
 ^ your wildcat," said Buck in Tarrant's office in Tin 
 Spout a few days later. "It's getting popular. Me and 
 Elmer want some orders about what to do." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Tarrant. "You're 
 not near the sand yet." 
 
 "I know it," agreed Buck. "The log reads about the 
 same as No. 4, and if the formation holds up we won't 
 be due in the sand for some time to come. Nevertheless, 
 that well is beginning to attract attention. Folks come 
 out and get nosey. Ask me to show 'em the log, and how 
 deep are we going/'' 
 
 Tarrant looked up. 
 
 "Who?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, Wayne, and most everybody," was the reply. 
 "Come on out, Spence; I've got the tin can running out- 
 side." 
 
 Tarrant locked his desk and stepped out and into the 
 battered mud-covered car which had brought Buck in 
 from the field. 
 
 "W T hat are you calling this well, Spence?" queried Buck 
 as the car bounced and lurched along the deep ruts in the 
 prairie which served as a road. 
 
 "Number Five," replied Tarrant. 
 
 "Call it Farthest South, why don't you?" retorted Buck, 
 rising to avoid the jar of a bump. "And fix a couple 
 saddles on this tin can so your high-priced employes can 
 
 ride in comfort. Wayne was out to the lease last evening. 
 
 109
 
 no Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Say, that boy is going to the bad, you know it? If he's 
 had a square night's sleep or drawn a completely sober 
 breath since joining the Syndicate, I don't know the signs 
 when I see them; and he's a nice little guy, too." 
 
 "They don't make them any better," agreed Tarrant 
 heartily, "but that won't save a man if the oil fever has 
 got him. Wayne sees a fortune ahead of him and the 
 sight is too much for him. It is an old story in this game. 
 I am sorry about him and wish I could help him." 
 
 "You can't," said Buck. "Say, what's that, a Pullman 
 car on rubber tires ?" 
 
 The object which had so startled Buck came in sight 
 as they approached the well. It was one of the most ex- 
 pensive and most ornate of the many large and expensive 
 cars which oilmen were bringing into the Southwest at 
 this time. An oilman usually begins his career with a 
 flivver as his motor vehicle. At the first smiling of for- 
 tune he rises to the dignity of six cylinders. If fortune 
 continues to smile the number of cylinders beneath his 
 car's hood is limited only by the capacity of the builders. 
 
 Bodine had procured the largest and most expensive 
 car to be had and had provided it with a special body as 
 large and expensive and glittering as the body builders 
 could execute. The car, on its heavy, specially built tires, 
 rolled like a red and nickel juggernaut over the trouble- 
 some ruts and came to a ponderous stop near the site of 
 the well. 
 
 Tarrant was not so much interested in the car or the 
 fact that it was paying his property a visit as he was in 
 the passengers who reclined upon its rich upholstery. 
 Wayne and his wife occupied the two chairs behind the 
 glass compartment which housed the chauffeur. Upon
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout in 
 
 the rear seat, which was like a club settee, sat Bodine with 
 Marjorie beside him. 
 
 "Tarrant, let's talk business," said Bodine, coming to 
 the point with no waste of words. "You have got a new 
 territory here that we can develop into millions. It sup- 
 plements the old Tin Spout field perfectly for our pur- 
 poses. For your purpose it isn't worth hauling a rig 
 onto." 
 
 Tarrant looked steadily at the promoter. 
 
 "Bodine," said he, "the rig has been hauled on." 
 
 "I know, I know," responded Bodine. "You are a 
 plunger, Tarrant ; you're the kind who find the new fields. 
 I know all that. But you've got hold of a wild gamble 
 here. The formation of this field is known as well as 
 if it was on the surface. You'll hit the sand here, Tar- 
 rant, that's certain ; but -will you find anything in it ? With 
 your limited resources can you drill enough holes to do 
 justice to this new territory? I doubt it. It will take a 
 million dollars to drill this field as it should be drilled. 
 How are you going to get the million? The answer is, 
 you can't get it. We can." 
 
 Tarrant made no reply. He had caught a glimpse of 
 Marjorie's eyes. She was looking at him from beneath 
 the brim of her wide hat, she was studying him, and there 
 was a look of wonderment in her eyes which he could not 
 fathom. 
 
 "Spence," interposed Wayne hoarsely, "you don't know 
 how small the game you are playing is compared to Mr. 
 Bodine's plans." 
 
 Tarrant regarded him seriously. There was a puffiness 
 about Wayne's eyes that had not been there before he met 
 Bodine, and his hands twitched nervously.
 
 112 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "All right," said Tarrant. "Then what?" 
 
 "Don't finish this well," put in Bodine. "Stop the drill 
 now before it hits the sand." 
 
 "Do you want to buy me out, Bodine ?" asked Tarrant 
 
 "Yes," came the instant reply; "what is your figure?" 
 
 Tarrant' s eyes were on the girl. His look came back 
 to Bodine and he saw that the promoter had caught the 
 straying glance and was watching him and watching Mar- 
 jorie like a cat. 
 
 "I won't sell to you Bodine," said Tarrant. 
 
 "But look here, Spence," exclaimed Wayne, "you'll 
 hold back the development of the whole field here. We've 
 got a boom coming to Tin Spout. We're going to turn a 
 whistling post into another Ranger Falls. Think of what 
 that means ? You don't want to be the dog in the manger, 
 do you? You don't want to delay the game, do you, 
 Spence? Why, the whole gang is wild about it every- 
 body in town. It means millions. Come on ! Get in the 
 game !" 
 
 "I won't sell to you, Bodine," repeated Tarrant quietly. 
 
 Bodine did not reply. His suaveness was gone momen- 
 tarily. He shot a catlike glance at the girl at his side, and 
 again looked at Tarrant. Tarrant smiled. Bodine looked 
 at him in silence for a few seconds ; then he, too, smiled. 
 Turning to the girl he said: "Marjorie, do you mind 
 driving back to Ranger Falls with me?" 
 
 "Why, no," she said in surprise. 
 
 "I must be there this evening," said Bodine loudly. 
 "George, turn round and go back to Tin Spout. We'll 
 drop Mrs. Wayne and Wayne there, Marjorie, and you 
 and I will drive to Ranger Falls." 
 
 "Some boat!" muttered Buck admiringly as he watched
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 113 
 
 the great car turn ponderously and roll out of sight. "But 
 that company is too fast for Wayne. He'll land on the 
 rocks pronto." 
 
 "Boss, you sure put on your war paint for their benefit/* 
 said Elmer. "I don't reckon they'll be crowding you with 
 offers to buy from now on. That big fellow, Bodine, is 
 one stiff citizen if I'm any judge. Reminds me something 
 of a tiger that's had a close shave, massage and shampoo." 
 
 "You needn't let any of that crowd come near the well 
 again," said Tarrant harshly. 
 
 "That's what we wanted to hear !" cried Buck. "Invite 
 them to stay away, eh?" 
 
 "Yes," was the reply. "No rough stuff. If it comes let 
 them start it. I think they will."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 T TOW about the crew on Number 5?" asked Tarrant 
 * * Of Elmer soon after Bodine's visit to the well. "Is 
 there anyone there that we can't trust?" 
 
 " Trust' ?" repeated Elmer. "How come?" 
 
 "The Pan-National Syndicate is not made up of a 
 bunch of Sunday-school children," said Tarrant, "and I 
 don't exactly look for them to come round and pat me 
 on the back for refusing to throw in with them. They are 
 succeeding in their campaign to shut down drilling and 
 production in this field. The Swede brothers the two 
 Larsen boys held out for a better deal from them and 
 kept on drilling, and last night someone on the night tower 
 dropped a charge of dynamite down the hole and ruined 
 the well. Blew the whole string of tools and the casing 
 into such a mess that they can't recover them. So now 
 the Swedes are good boys and members of the Syndicate 
 in good standing. 
 
 "That leaves me the only one drilling the field, and I 
 understand they swear every time the bull wheel at No. 5 
 makes a revolution. They stopped the Larsen boys and 
 their next play will be to stop me. They either had one 
 of their own men working on the Swedes' night tower or 
 "bribed one of the men to do the job for them. If there 
 is anyone working on No. 5, Elmer, that can't be trusted 
 to the limit let me know about him so I can let him go." 
 
 Elmer carefully went over the names of the men em- 
 ployed on the test well, checking the record of each so 
 
 114
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 115 
 
 far as he knew it and voiced the opinion that all were 
 reliable and faithful men except one. 
 
 "There's Ramos, that Mexican kid, that Buck put on 
 as platform man last week," said he. "He's a good oil- 
 man, but the other boys won't play cards with him. I 
 dunno about him." 
 
 "Tell Buck to let him go," ordered Tarrant. "Tell him 
 to make sure that each tower has got at least one of our 
 old-timers on it. After dark nobody is to come as near 
 as the boiler unless you know him as a friend." 
 
 "Speaking of Mexicans," said Elmer, "that reminds 
 me that hard-looking hombre with the scar was pesticating 
 round out there yesterday. I dunno, but I sure 'nough 
 got a feeling I seen that hombre before. Goes by the name 
 of Grogan. I don't like him. Know what his game is?" 
 
 "No, but he is a Syndicate man," replied Tarrant. "In- 
 vite him to keep strictly away if he comes out again." 
 
 "Well, sir," chuckled Elmer, "that's funny! That's 
 just what I did. 'Mister,' I says, talking Spanish for 
 some reason, 'there are nicer places for you to stroll.' 'I 
 don't understand anything but English/ says he. 'The 
 hell you don't!' says I in English. 'All right, hombre; 
 vamoose pronto! Sabe?' So he went away, taking it 
 mighty easy; but Buck laughed at him from the crown 
 block and this Grogan looked up at him just once I tell 
 you, Tarrant, he's one maHo hombre, that bird. If I could 
 only remember where I seen him before I would feel 
 easier." 
 
 "Yes, it's a shame for hard ones to come round and 
 scare a timid fellow like you," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Sure is," agreed Elmer solemnly. "I'm going to look 
 at my map when I get back to camp. I got her marked
 
 n6 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 with a red dot every place I been. Looks something like 
 a man with ery-siplus. I'll study her and see if some spot 
 won't bring back to me where I seen this scar-faced who 
 calls himself Grogan." 
 
 Tarrant's precautions were only such as he had fre- 
 quently taken before. He had been through several oil- 
 field fights in his strenuous career. He had seen his der- 
 rick and storage tanks go up in flame ; once he had a well 
 dynamited just as he was to bring it in. All that was 
 in the game and he played the game to the limit. Having 
 thrown down the gage to Bodine he asked for, and ex- 
 pected, no odds. He paid his attorney a heavy retainer 
 for first call on his services. At his orders, his titles, leases 
 and stock issues were searched for a possible loophole for 
 an attack through the courts. 
 
 "Not that they are apt to start anything legal just now, 
 Al," said he to the lawyer. "They don't own the courts 
 yet ; but it is a stiff game and I am playing safe." 
 
 "You are suspicious," said the attorney. "Have you 
 any reason for it?" 
 
 "Al, there are worse places than a poker game for sizing 
 up a man," was Tarrant's enigmatic reply. 
 
 Having taken his precautions he waited vigilantly for 
 Bodine's next move. But apparently Bodine was through 
 with him for the time being. The new well was left 
 strictly alone. His pumping wells at Tin Spout chugged 
 away with no interference, and his storage tanks, where 
 the crude oil was held while a new pipe line was being 
 laid, were unmolested. 
 
 Tarrant did not relax his vigilant mood. Range bred 
 as he was he adopted the tactics of the range when danger 
 threatens. Nine Spot, the pinto pony, was a good night
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 117 
 
 horse, and night after night he carried his master about 
 the field while Tarrant searched with the senses of a born 
 hunter for signs of menace to his property. He returned 
 late one night from one of these prowls to find Wayne 
 seated in a huddle on his doorstep. Tarrant came up 
 softly and laid a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Wayne, old boy, what's wrong?" he said. 
 
 The young man started up from his doze in alarm. 
 
 "Oh ! Oh ! It's you, Spence," he stammered in relief. 
 "I've been waiting. Fell asleep, I guess. You haven't 
 got a drink on you, have you?" 
 
 "For heaven's sake, old boy, cut it out !" implored Tar- 
 rant. "You are traveling too fast. It is making a bum 
 out of you." 
 
 "A bum? Me?" chuckled Wayne scornfully. "Man, 
 I'm going to be a millionaire. You you'll go broke drill- 
 ing dry holes. 
 
 "What time is it?" he broke off, starting up. "I said 
 I would see you. I got to get back. Spence, you we're 
 friends. I've got to tell you a few things you ought to 
 know. The boys have got together on the proposition and 
 they are not going to take any chances of having this 
 boom killed off. It means too much ; it is too big a chance. 
 Everybody is together on it, the operators, the business 
 men in town, and everybody. You are the only one who 
 is holding out. I thought I I would come and tell you, 
 Spence." 
 
 "Go on," commanded Tarrant. "You haven't come 
 here just to tell me that old news. What is the rest of it?" 
 
 "Well " stammered Wayne "I Spence, you 
 
 know you and I are friends?" 
 
 "Out with it!"
 
 Ii8 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "It it's this, Spencc; the people here aren't going to 
 let one hold out spoil the whole game." 
 
 "Goon!" 
 
 Wayne nerved himself and blurted : 
 
 "They won't let you keep drilling, Spence, and, by 
 heaven they're right! Get in or get smashed!" 
 
 Tarrant waited a long while before responding. 
 
 "Wayne," he said softly, "you're going to hell fast" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A little while ago a few weeks," continued Tarrant, 
 "and I would liked to have seen the man who could use 
 you for his dirty work. But they have got you, boy ; you 
 have been running round with them out to the Country 
 Club and drinking more than you are built to hold, and 
 here you are, carrying Bodine's messages just as if you 
 weren't your own man a few weeks ago." 
 
 "It isn't Bodine, I tell you," cried Wayne fretfully. 
 "He wouldn't send you another word." 
 
 "Running his errands !" 
 
 "No! No! It was Marjorie Miss Dickinson." 
 
 Tarrant sat down and proceeded to roll a cigarette. 
 
 "What's the use of bringing a girl's name into the oil 
 business, Wayne?" he protested gently. 
 
 "She sent me," said Wayne. "She and her father are 
 here, and she got Mrs. Wayne to make me come." 
 
 "To tell me what you have said?" 
 
 Wayne hesitated, fidgeting nervously. 
 
 "If you must know, her father told her how how the 
 Syndicate is out to steam-roller you for holding out 
 against them," he burst forth. "She didn't seem to think 
 it was fair. She's queer that way. And so I had to 
 come here and try to talk some sense into you."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 119 
 
 "Why didn't she come herself ?" demanded Tarrant. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "If she was interested enough to send you " 
 
 "Man, she couldn't do that," protested Wayne. "Why, 
 she is one of the Syndicate crowd. Her father and then 
 Bodine how could she?" 
 
 "What about Bodine and her?" asked Tarrant evenly. 
 
 "Bodine gets what he wants," was the evasive reply. 
 
 "I reckon Doctor Dickinson is mighty strong for Bo- 
 dine ?" suggested Tarrant after a pause. 
 
 "He thinks Bodine is a world beater." 
 
 "And she is the doctor's daughter, and she's just a 
 kid," said Tarrant softly. "Wayne, -why did she bother 
 to send you?" 
 
 "I've told you, Spence. It was " 
 
 "Pity !" cried Tarrant as the other hesitated. 
 
 "Well, something like that." 
 
 "Hell's bells!" Tarrant was on his feet laughing at 
 the sky. "Pity !" he repeated in the egoism of youth. "All 
 right, Wayne, you can go. There's no answer." 
 
 "Answer? Why, Spence " 
 
 "Don't mind me. So long, old boy," said Tarrant, 
 shaking hands. "You sure have done me a big favour."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 BUCK told me to tell you he was getting close to where 
 the sand ought to be," said the cook at Well No. 5 
 when he came to town after supplies the next day. "The 
 night tower sure shoved her down some last night." 
 
 "Has he hit the cap rock?" demanded Tarrant. 
 
 "I think he has," replied the cook to whom the impor- 
 tant portion of the oil industry was the provision of meals 
 for the crew. "Anyhow he said to tell you he was getting 
 down near the finish." 
 
 "I'll be out this afternoon," said Tarrant. "Tell Buck 
 if he gets a showing of sand before I get there to shut 
 down and wait for me." 
 
 He was grimly pleased. The drilling of the wildcat well 
 had progressed much more rapidly than he had any reason 
 to hope ; and, what was more important, much more rap- 
 idly than anyone outside his crew, which from the cook 
 to Elmer was loyally silent, had any reason to suspect. 
 The drill had gone to twelve hundred feet, the level at 
 which lay the porous sand which contained the oil in the 
 Tin Spout field in two weeks less than the average of time 
 consumed in drilling in that section. Fortune had 
 favoured him in this, at least. The Syndicate, presuming 
 that the hole was far from the depth at which there was a 
 possibility of an oil well being brought in, had made no 
 effort to interfere with the drilling. 
 
 Had Tarrant been less hard-bitten by experience he 
 might have been jubilant over the situation. That the 
 Syndicate had no intention of further developing the Tin 
 
 120
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 121 
 
 Spout field he was confident. Bodine was not an oilman. 
 The Tin Spout field was to him merely a basis for an ad- 
 vertising campaign. The sudden cessation of all new pro- 
 duction in the field was an inspiration. With no small 
 wells being brought in there need be no limit to the golden 
 promises which the Syndicate might make. The craze 
 for oil investments was rising to the pitch of a mad 
 gamble. Investors, whose notion of an oil well was ob- 
 tained solely from the skilful propaganda of the pro- 
 moters, had eyes only for the spectacular. To the bulk of 
 them all oil wells were "gushers," and a "gusher" meant 
 millions. 
 
 If No. 5 came in a producing well it would deal the plans 
 of Bodine and his Syndicate a severe blow. Oil in paying 
 quantities on the wildcat lease would mean a fortune for 
 Tarrant and a rush to that section. His lease comprised 
 a thousand acres. If he got a well he would throw the 
 tract open only to real oil companies whose business was 
 drilling for oil and not selling stock. There would be 
 plenty of them. Oil was at a peak price and steadily 
 going up. There would be a rush of drilling rigs to the 
 new field. A pipe line would come in. 
 
 He would get a spur of railway track there and a new 
 oil town would spring up as a crop springs from the seed. 
 Tin Spout would fade as an advertising proposition in the 
 fierce light which would beat upon the new field. Tin 
 Spout stock would be dead bait for investors and the 
 Syndicate would be forced to develop its holdings in the 
 Tin Spout field or, by collapsing, expose its scheme. 
 
 The potentiality of Well No. 5 was fully apparent to 
 him, but he experienced no thrill or elation as he contem- 
 plated the situation. It all was contingent upon No. 5
 
 122 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 striking a pay sand. Tarrant had drilled too many wildcat 
 wells to permit himself to become enthusiastic. 
 
 He mounted Nine Spot in the afternoon and jogged 
 easily out of town toward the lease. It was a breathless 
 spring afternoon. Upon the open prairie country lay a 
 mantle of silence. In the scrub oak surrounding the well 
 site the silence was so complete as to be oppressive. Tar- 
 rant pulled the pinto up and sat motionless, listening. No 
 sound came to his ears. The well was shut down. 
 
 "Jog along, pony," said he, shaking the reins, "the 
 boys are waiting for us." 
 
 In the open clearing about the well the crew loafed at 
 its ease. A pair of youthful derrickmen were wrestling 
 earnestly, while their older fellows looked on, contemptu- 
 ous of such a display of energy. Buck and Elmer sat on 
 the platform, and by their attitude Tarrant saw that they 
 were troubled. 
 
 "Well?" he said, as he stepped up to the casing. 
 
 "Yep," said Elmer sorrowfully. 
 
 "We hit her right where you figured she'd be," ex- 
 plained Buck. "The hell of it is we went right through 
 her before we knew it." 
 
 "Whatr 
 
 "There ain't over four feet of sand down there," blurted 
 Elmer, "and it's as dry as a church." 
 
 Tarrant turned to the slush pool where the final bailings 
 from the hole had been poured and after a careful ex- 
 amination of the muck he grew thoughtful. Elmer and 
 Buck, regarding the calm with which their employer read 
 the inexorable verdict of the bailing, looked at one an- 
 other with admiration in their eyes.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 123 
 
 Tarrant returned to the platform with no change in his 
 expression. 
 
 "It is the Tin Spout sand, only here it is dry," he said. 
 "What was the depth when you hit it?" 
 
 "Twelve hundred and thirty." 
 
 "That is twenty feet deeper than the sand lies at Tin 
 Spout." 
 
 "Twenty feet exactly," agreed Buck, "and the sand 
 peters out here." 
 
 "You say you have gone through the sand," asked 
 Tarrant. 
 
 "Smack through it, and we didn't even bring in a trace/' 
 was the reply. "Didn't even get salt water." 
 
 "What are you in now?" 
 
 "Red clay again," said Buck. "Starting right over in 
 the same stuff we got on top." 
 
 Tarrant pondered a moment. 
 
 "How does the log read, Buck?" he asked. 
 
 "Here it is. Just add twenty feet to any of your other 
 well logs and you've got a duplicate of it." 
 
 Tarrant cast his eye rapidly over the driller's record of 
 the formation which the drill had passed through on its 
 way to the pay sand. There was no need to examine it 
 more closely. At a glance he saw that, as Buck said, the 
 log indicated practically the same structures as his drills 
 had found to the north, at Tin Spout. 
 
 "Red clay, water, sand, red clay, sand, shale, red clay, 
 .sand rock, sand-hard, shale, gumbo, black shale, oil sand." 
 
 Tarrant knew the log by heart. 
 
 "Are you going to try a shot?" asked Buck. 
 
 His employer shook his head.
 
 124 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "No," agreed Buck, "it doesn't look worth it, that's a 
 fact." 
 
 "We won't shoot it," said Tarrant. 
 
 He was looking at the casing head and his eyes were 
 hard. 
 
 A few weeks ago he would have casually accepted the 
 verdict as final, and tried his luck elsewhere. But mighty 
 things had happened to him in those weeks and he was no 
 longer the happy-go-lucky oil gambler. The immensity 
 of the industry had always been apparent to him, as had 
 the significance of each successful well releasing a virgin 
 force into the world. True, there was more money to be 
 made in the business than ever before, but that concerned 
 him only because it might mean more power. And power 
 was what he was after. He must stand on a plane with 
 Bodine. This was what stirred him. He looked at the 
 muck-spattered casing, but what he saw was Marjorie's 
 eyes, clear and frank, yet luring with the mysterious lure 
 of woman; and what he heard were Wayne's faltering 
 words the night before admitting that her interest in Tar- 
 rant was one of pity! The thought nerved him to a 
 capacity for ventures beyond his wildest wildcatting. He 
 seemed gifted with a new and greater vision. 
 
 "Shall we pull the casing, Spence?" asked Buck in a 
 tone that made the question only a formality. 
 
 Tarrant did not appear to hear. He was like a man 
 under the spell of inspiration. 
 
 "Shall we pull " 
 
 "No!'' exploded Tarrant. "We are going to keep on 
 drilling. We are going deeper. We are going after the 
 big pool right here. That pool wasn't meant for pikers to 
 find. We've all been pikers here, working up shallow pro-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 125 
 
 duction and quitting when we are down twelve hundred 
 feet. That game is played out. It's bust or win big with 
 me now. Put a guard on day and night here, Buck, and 
 keep everyone off. Don't let a soul know what we're 
 doing and don't let any one see the log or learn how deep 
 we are going. Start your steam again. Get your string 
 of tools down the hole. And start drilling and keep on 
 drilling until I tell you to stop !" 
 
 His mood as he rode back to Tin Spout was one oi 
 relief. There was a sense of lightened responsibility. He 
 had taken the plunge, staking all he had on a desperate 
 gamble. Having so done, he felt easier. The result was 
 in the hands of Fate. 
 
 As he emerged from the oak scrub onto the open prairie 
 country he came full tilt into the opulence of a Southwest- 
 ern spring sunset, and he straightened up in the saddle and 
 filled his lungs to the bottom with the cooling air. Nine 
 Spot, jog-trotting lazily, protested against soiling his 
 dainty fetlocks in the mud of the road, and Tarrant, with a 
 chuckle, swung him off from the rutted wheel tracks and 
 rode across country. The pinto rewarded the manceuver 
 by falling into the long, easy lope of the range horse. As 
 they approached the town they came back to the road and 
 Nine Spot, appreciating what was expected of a range 
 horse entering town, broke into a sharp gallop. 
 
 The shadows of evening were stretching out over the 
 scene. Along the western horizon a long streak of angry 
 red was making a losing struggle against the encroaching 
 darkness of night. In Tin Spout lights were beginning to 
 gleam in the windows. The glaring headlight of a motor 
 car streaked past him and Tarrant pulled the galloping 
 pinto to one side to let it by. It came with a roar and a
 
 126 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 rush. It was Bodine's car. Bodine sat beside the chauf- 
 feur and in the rear seat were Doctor Dickinson and 
 Marjorie. 
 
 Tarrant watched the car sweep up toward Tin Spout. 
 At the outskirts of the town its speed diminished sharply. 
 In the rays of the headlight he saw the cause. A four- 
 horse team hauling a truck loaded to the limit with casing 
 was occuping the middle of the treacherous road. Tar- 
 rant laughed sharply. He recognised the teamster and 
 the horses ; that load of casing belonged to him and was 
 on its way out to Well No. 5. He saw the big car swing 
 out to go round the obstacle. A light automobile could 
 have done it, but Bodine's car was ponderous even out of 
 proportion to its extra size tires, and as it swung from the 
 road it ploughed its length in the soft gumbo topsoil and 
 came to a stop hub deep in a hole from which not even its 
 powerful motor could lift it. 
 
 Tarrant brought the pinto to his haunches with a jerk 
 and sat still and looked on. He saw Bodine and the 
 chauffeur spring out to examine the wheels. 
 
 "I am afraid we are fast," came Bodine's heavy voice. 
 "The earth is like glue here." 
 
 Doctor Dickinson ponderously joined the two men. 
 Marjorie prepared to follow, but Bodine cried out so- 
 licitously : 
 
 "No, no, Marjorie 1 Stay where you are. The mud is 
 impossible." 
 
 She stood on the broad running board undecided what 
 to do. The pony had noiselessly carried Tarrant close 
 enough to see her face. At the sight of her clean beauty 
 a throb ran through him, but he recalled Wayne's explana- 
 tion of her interest in him and steeled himself.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 127 
 
 "Tony, run up to town and send a car back for Miss 
 Dickinson," Bodine directed his chauffeur. 
 
 "Oh, that is too much trouble," she protested laugh- 
 ingly, "I can walk, easily." 
 
 "Not if I am allowed to have the say!" laughed Bodine 
 with a gleam of his white teeth. 
 
 The devil of recklessness of the one-time cowboy flared 
 up in Tarrant as naturally as tinder to the touch of a 
 match. Nine Spot came dancing up to the car with short, 
 tight-reined steps. Tarrant's face was as blank as an 
 Indian's, and his blue eyes were boyishly innocent of 
 guile. He held Nine Spot in hand with his left hand while 
 his long right arm hung idle at his side. 
 
 "Can I give you any assistance, Miss Dickinson?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "No, thank you," she stammered; and then she saw 
 his face and gasped. 
 
 "Bodine!" called Tarrant laughingly. And he swung 
 low from the saddle and swept the girl off the running 
 board and up to his breast, and let Nine Spot go toward 
 town, all with such suddenness and speed that the deed 
 was done ere anyone could speak a word. 
 
 Marjorie's wild, instinctive clutch as she felt herself 
 swept off her feet, flung her arms about Tarrant's neck, 
 and he laughed and kissed her full upon the lips. The next 
 instant it required all the strength of his steel-like arms 
 to prevent her from injury, for at the touch of his lips she 
 released her hold and struck him, fought him, tossed her- 
 self about, reckless of all but a desire to escape from the 
 outrage. 
 
 "Don't kick!" laughed Tarrant. "The horse is a 
 bucker."
 
 128 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Let me go !" she gasped. "You beast I Let me go !" 
 
 "I won't till you stop your kicking," said Tarrant. "It 
 wouldn't be safe." 
 
 "Put me down !" 
 
 "There, you've got him dancing again." 
 
 "I don't care, I don't care. Let me go !" she panted. 
 
 "You take it easy," was the rider's response. "I am 
 not going to put you down until you quiet down. Quiet 
 down, do you hear?" 
 
 "You dare command me after that ?" she gasped. 
 
 "I do," he said steadily. "Have some sense. I didn't 
 aim to do you any harm." 
 
 "Oh, you beast !" 
 
 "All right. All right. Let it go at that. But you have 
 got to take it easy if you want the 'beast' to let you go. It 
 won't pay you any to struggle. The horse won't steady 
 down while you do. Besides, it won't do you any good 
 because you can't get away until I am ready to let you go. 
 I have got something to say to you." 
 
 The first tempest of rage subsided and she grew still. 
 Her eyes flashed fire, and her cheeks were white with an- 
 ger, but the arm about her waist was like iron, and the 
 face and eyes above her held an expression that silenced 
 her with wonderment. 
 
 "I aimed to do it pick you off the running board," he 
 told her calmly. "But I did not aim to kiss you till I had 
 you up here. Then I knew I had to do it, and I knew why 
 because I had seen you riding with Bodine and because 
 I love you, and I'm going to make you love me !" 
 
 "I hate you I loathe you !' she cried. 
 
 "That's all right," he said swiftly. "I can understand 
 that. It will take you some time to get over it, maybe.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 129 
 
 That's all right, too. Now I am going to land you high 
 and dry on the steps of the hotel, so I've got to talk fast. 
 I love you." 
 
 "You brute ! You don't know what the word means," 
 she moaned. 
 
 "But I'm learning," he protested. "I never took stock 
 in it before; but now I know. My life means you from 
 now on ; and you're going to learn to love me, too !" 
 
 He held her to him tensely, his face bowed close to her' 3 
 and his eyes fixed with anguish and pleading, and then he 
 dropped her lightly upon the steps. Once again upon her 
 own feet her anger and courage returned. 
 
 "If you ever dare speak to me again may God punish 
 you as you deserve !" she hurled at him. 
 
 He bowed acquiescently. 
 
 "Fair enough," said he. " 'As I deserve.' "
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "JV/TARJORIE continued to stand on the steps of the 
 * * hotel, staring at Tarrant's back as, sitting like a 
 rock in the saddle, he rode on up the street. He looked 
 back once, turning his head slowly without checking tne 
 loping horse, looking at her steadily for an instant and 
 turning away, his face set in stern affirmation of his act 
 and words. She watched him until sight of him was lost 
 in the gathering darkness. His apparent nonchalance 
 added fuel to the anger which seethed within her. Was it 
 possible that his action was a mere incident to him, that 
 it had left him entirely unaffected? For it had affected 
 her mightily. She had been lost for the moment, and she 
 had fought not because of fear or because she was hurt, 
 but because of the amazing emotion within her which in- 
 clined her to yield to the moment's thrill. She was blazing 
 with fury, and most of it was evoked by her own inner 
 self. Had Tarrant been within reach of her voice she 
 would have vented her wrath upon him. But Tarrant 
 was gone. With his disappearance the fire seemed to go 
 out in her and her spirit collapsed weakly. She seemed 
 to wilt physically ; her legs trembled, and she looked about 
 helplessly. 
 
 Bodine was coming toward her. He had completely 
 outdistanced her father and was rushing through the cling- 
 ing mud with a burst of strength and agility which would 
 not be stayed. His size and dominance seemed overpow- 
 ering to her; it seemed as if fate, too mighty and swift 
 
 130
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 131 
 
 for her to resist or elude, was bearing down upon her, and 
 she leaned faintly against the wall of the hotel, and Bo- 
 dine came up and took her in his arms. She made no 
 effort to resist, nor did she respond. Resistance or re- 
 sponse were beyond her at the moment. She lay supine 
 in his arms, feeling his hands upon her body, realising 
 all that was taking place yet strangely numbed and in- 
 different to it. The world was upset for her. She did not 
 move, while he carried her into the hotel and while his 
 grasp upon her body grew more eager. She heard his 
 voice, hoarse and tense, commanding sharply, a scurry of 
 feet arid the opening of a door. He bore her into the 
 room and the door slammed, and at the sound Bodine's 
 embrace became convulsive. He stood looking down upon 
 her for a moment, and beneath his gaze she wearily closed 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Put me down," she murmured. 
 
 Without replying he crushed her to his breast, then laid 
 her gently upon the bed. 
 
 Marjorie sprang to her feet as if awakened from slum- 
 ber by a sudden alarm. She was abnormally alert, quick- 
 ened by some sudden sense of danger. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed ; you are quite safe." 
 
 Bodine's eyes were upon her, assuring, caressing, yet 
 devouring her. He was speaking words of assurance, 
 but the elemental significance of the moment clamoured 
 loudly to her, and words were ineffectual. He was be- 
 tween her and the door. Instinctively she grasped this 
 as the crux of the situation. She crouched as if ready to 
 spring away, every fibre of her being was tensed to the 
 breaking point. Gradually his words won, driving away
 
 132 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 the elemental alarm which had roused her and forcing 
 her to listen to what he was saying. 
 
 "You mustn't judge Tin Spout by one bad actor. He 
 isn't at all typical. Most of the men here are rough, but 
 they respect women. Try to forget about it. I will make 
 sure it can't happen again." 
 
 Then her father's excited voice as he came puffing into 
 the room: "I will take care of her; thank you, Bodine, 
 thank you." 
 
 Alone with her father, Marjorie grew calm, and her 
 confidence in herself returned. She waited patiently while 
 his paternal indignation vented itself and until his vituper- 
 ation of Tarrant ceased for want of breath. 
 
 "I want to go home, Daddy," said she, and instantly 
 she felt sorry she had spoken, felt sorry for her father 
 at the look of alarm which came into his countenance at 
 her words. Expressions of indignation, of craftiness 
 and of ruthless determination followed one another across 
 his disturbed eyes. 
 
 "Want to go home?" he said in a voice that sickened 
 her. "Want to run away and leave me just when just 
 when I need your company the most !" 
 
 "Daddy!" she murmured. 
 
 "After all I have done for you !" he went on. "Marjie, 
 haven't I done all for you a father could ?" 
 
 "Yes, Daddy." 
 
 "Is it asking too much for you to stay with me here 
 when I am trying to do my best for you ?" he demanded. 
 "I am not doing this for myself, Marjie; I'm thinking 
 of you and your future. I wouldn't be doing my duty as 
 a father if I didn't take advantage of the opportunities 
 offered here. Mr. Bodine has taken me into his complete
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 133 
 
 .confidence. You've noticed how much we've been together 
 recently ; since you came, in fact ? You don't realise what 
 that means to me, Marjie. There is no limit positively 
 no limit. Bodine is the coming man in the oil business. 
 I'll go up with him. Marjie, you can't think of leaving 
 me now. I can't " 
 
 "No, no!" she threw herself upon his breast, sickened 
 at the spectacle of his abjectness and eager to do anything 
 within her power to stop it. 
 
 Her affectionate surrender assured him. He was her 
 father ; she would listen to him, obey him. He patted her 
 head with a trace of condescension in his manner. 
 
 "My little girl is upset," said he. "I will leave you a 
 mild bromide, Marjie, and prescribe a rest in bed. Mr. 
 Bodine was greatly distressed, I could see that. He con- 
 tinually thinks of you. He'll see that you won't be of- 
 fended again." 
 
 The effect of Tarrant's rash action was most apparent 
 upon the young man himself. The next day he met Mar- 
 jorie face to face in the post-office and her manner con- 
 firmed the dark fears which he had entertained. She 
 could not avoid seeing him, therefore she made no pre- 
 tense of not doing so. Her face went white and then red 
 as she looked at him, but it was the look in her eyes, a look 
 of accusation and at the same time of sorrow, as if she 
 had expected better things of him, that stung and hurt. 
 
 Tarrant was too young to take such things lightly. The 
 impression which her beauty had made upon him at their 
 first meeting had grown deeper day by day. His feeling 
 toward her at first represented only the natural reaction 
 of a youth smitten by a young girl's beauty. Had she been 
 otherwise than what she was, or had his perceptions been
 
 134 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 less acute, this feeling might have remained and the con- 
 sequences of his conduct would have been insignificant. 
 
 But the few seconds when he had held her to his breast 
 had been a revelation. His feeling had grown deeper, 
 more serious and finer than the first surface impression. 
 The memory of her face and the look in her eyes as she 
 stood panting upon the hotel steps and spoke her final 
 words haunted him. In that moment her soul was bare 
 before him, and he had a glimpse of the paradise he had 
 so recklessly thrown away. 
 
 The meeting at the post-office was a second blow to the 
 young man. Again for a flash she had allowed her soul 
 to gleam in her eyes. Tarrant went on down the street 
 cursed with a haunting vision of what might have been. 
 A sense of despair filled his being, and then inevitably his 
 nature responded with a protest of recklessness. The 
 mood of youth desperately hurt and condemning itself for 
 its folly was upon him. Had he been less vital it is pos- 
 sible that he would have become weak and indifferent 
 under its influence. The intensity and the fire of his na- 
 ture precluded that. He grew grim and determined, and 
 the recklessness which was inherent in him fired this mood 
 into the hardness of steel. He sought relief from the 
 haunting visions of Marjorie in the hectic poker games 
 which now were a feature of the nights at Tin Spout. The 
 wilder the game and the rougher the crowd the more he 
 felt at ease. He saw himself as a man who had glimpsed 
 a better and finer life than he had lived and who had de- 
 liberately proved that he had no right to such dreams. 
 Each memory of Marjorie was a reproach to him. He 
 felt his place to be among the low and brutalised element 
 of which the town now had its full share.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 135 
 
 Another man had gravitated to this class as inevitably 
 as water seeks the lowest level. This was Grogan, the 
 scar- faced man, who had been ordered off Tarrant's lease. 
 He was to be seen but seldom on the street and then 
 scarcely ever in the daytime. But wherever the vicious 
 element congregated at night he was known. The hamlet 
 already held more than its proportion of criminally in- 
 clined parasites. Grogan had usurped the position of 
 leader from the day he first appeared. Some of his asso- 
 ciates knew his record but those who were wise told no 
 one. One such a Mexican was not wise, and suddenly 
 he was missing from his haunts. It was understood that 
 he was last seen one night going for a motor ride out on 
 the prairie with Grogan, but no one cared to say so out 
 loud. 
 
 "I tell you, Elmer, I don't savvy what's got into the 
 boss lately," said Buck one morning on his return from 
 town. "I go to town to look over the new waitress at 
 Chili Joe's and she's over forty and hard on the eyes, so I 
 decide I'll take my evening's dissipation caressing the 
 ivories. I sneak round to Steve's Dump and shove my 
 way up to the table and who do I see there but Spence, 
 shooting a hundred at a clip and fading everybody in sight. 
 
 "But that ain't what gets me. He can gamble or leave 
 it alone, of course. It's the way he looks. You know, 
 Elmer, he don't belong in that sort of company. Well, he 
 looked like he knew it, too, and didn't give a damn, and 
 was ready to tell anybody to go to hell who asked him 
 what he was doing there. And that ain't all either, by a 
 long shot. That bad man, Grogan, is one of the crowd 
 that holes up in Steve's. He and the boss never had no 
 use for each other from the first go-off, but the way the
 
 136 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 boss looks now he'll be inviting trouble if he sees it coming 
 toward him, and if he keeps this up he and Grogan will 
 bump sooner or later." 
 
 Elmer grew serious as he listened to the young driller's 
 recital. He had written to his old partner of Mexican 
 days, Alameda Slim, seeking possible information con- 
 cerning Grogan, but as yet he had received no reply. 
 
 "I reckon Spence can take care of himself in most kinds 
 of company," he mused. "Still, if this Grogan is what 
 my memory wants to make him the boss ought to know." 
 
 One night as Tarrant sat at a poker table in Steve's 
 Dump he heard a half -drunken voice behind him utter 
 some words that drew his attention. 
 
 "Who? That girl he's running round with? Don't tell 
 me ! Bodine ain't wasting any time." 
 
 The words brought Tarrant up with a jerk. He looked 
 round at the faces in the room. Not one but bore the 
 marks of brutality and debasement. Worse than this, he 
 realised, was that it was entirely natural to his present en- 
 vironment for such words to be uttered there as he had 
 just heard. 
 
 "D'you know anything, Tex?" queried a bystander. 
 "Or are you just talking with your mouth?" 
 
 "I know what I'm talking about, you betcha!" blurted 
 the first 'speaker. "Ain't I got eyes? I'm a wise guy. I 
 know 'em when I see 'em. That old bird Dickinson is just 
 a blind, that's all. Gives out she's his daughter. Daughter 
 hell! She's about as much his daughter as an 'oilman's 
 secretary' is. Well, we know what an oilman's secretary 
 is, eh, fellers?" 
 
 Tarrant went cold and hot. He laid down his cards 
 and pushed back from the table. Slowly he turned round
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 137 
 
 till he faced the loose-mouthed fool and looked him in the 
 eyes. The man was too drunk to understand the look, 
 and, reading it for interest in his tale, he winked at 
 Tarrant. 
 
 "Driving her round in his machine!" he chortled. 
 "Dickinson's daughter ! Ho !" And he went even beyond 
 the bounds of loose talk among rough men. 
 
 Tarrant's grip on his throat choked the final filthy 
 words before they were uttered. 
 
 "You skunk," said the oilman quietly, "you tell them 
 you are a liar. Tell them every word you have said is a 
 lie. Tell them you don't know a thing about what you 
 have been talking." 
 
 He held the man pinned against the wall for a moment, 
 and took his hands off him. 
 
 "Go ahead," he commanded coldly. "Tell them you 
 lie." 
 
 The man was burly and young and there was consider- 
 able liquor in him, but before the fury of Tarrant's on- 
 slaught and the menace of his eyes he wilted at once. 
 
 "I was just joshing," he stammered with a sickly grin. 
 
 "You were lying. Tell them you lied." 
 
 "Well, if you call it a lie " 
 
 "You don't know one thing about which you spoke." 
 
 "That's right. It was just a josh. Can't you take a 
 joke?" 
 
 "You didn't want it believed?" 
 
 "Sure not. Sure not." 
 
 "And if I ever hear of your talking like this again " 
 
 Tarrant left the threat unfinished as the hulk of a man 
 cowered abjectly. He looked at him a moment, looked
 
 138 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 round the room. Then he thrust his way roughly out of 
 the door. 
 
 "I wasn't only lying," said the sobered man, feeling his 
 throat, "I was a damn fool besides for letting that guy 
 hear me shoot off my mouth." 
 
 A few days later Grogan came up to Tarrant on the 
 street. 
 
 "You're playing yourself pretty strong round here, fel- 
 ler," began the scarred man abruptly. 
 
 Tarrant looked at him in surprise. Then he caught the 
 glint of excitement in Grogan's dark eyes, the tenseness 
 of the man's whole body, and understood. The story of 
 his handling of the drunken man had come to Grogan's 
 ears and he was seeking to provoke an onslaught. Tar- 
 ran't mind worked busily. Everything about Grogan be- 
 spoke the professional bad man. Resolved not to be led 
 into a trap Tarrant asked mildly, "What's the idea?" 
 
 "The idea is you are overplaying yourself," replied 
 Grogan, watching narrowly. "Unless maybe you figure 
 to put your play through." 
 
 "You are still talking riddles to me," said Tarrant with 
 a laugh. "Why not explain?" 
 
 A sneer came upon Grogan's lips as he understood that 
 Tarrant was not to be drawn into a quarrel. 
 
 "And they told me you were hard!" he snarled. "Ha! 
 A guy like you trying to buck Bodine's game!" 
 
 "I didn't know I was," came the passive reply. 
 
 "Well, if you didn't you sure made a bad play for your- 
 self with your pinto the other evening," growled Grogan. 
 "I'd call that bucking a game, my black self. What's the 
 matter, got cold feet ? Ain't you setting in ?" 
 
 "Not unless I am dragged in," replied Tarrant.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 139 
 
 "You'll be dragged in all right, unless you clear out,** 
 said Grogan. "I've got your brand now, you four-flush. 
 Don't play yourself so strong round here any more or 
 you'll be made to show-down." 
 
 Grogan was becoming clearer to Tarrant, but it re- 
 mained for the letter from Alameda Slim, which finally 
 reached Elmer to establish definitely the scarred man's 
 status. It read: 
 
 DEL Rio, TEXAS. 
 
 Dear Elmer: How, old-timer! It sure was a treat to see 
 your hen scratching and your Jno. Hancock and to hear from 
 you way up North there in the new oil fields. Is it cold up 
 there? I suppose you have made your stake? How is the 
 grub? 
 
 Now you ask me about a man named Grogan which is on the 
 prod against your boss, and you think you had seen him down 
 below the river and do I know such a man? Well, Elmer, you 
 called the turn when you played me to know about him, and 
 he sure is a stiff citizen. Maybe I could tell you more about 
 him if I was up there, but I am staying with a friend just now, 
 and don't go out much except at night on acc't three hombres 
 which jumped me one night and I had to hurt one hombre 
 before he would let go. It was some time ago. Well, Elmer, 
 this man Grogan worked for that man named Bodine, which 
 had a oil company down near Tampico, and he certainly is 
 one muy malo hombre. I mean Grogan, not Bodine, which is 
 too slick to do it himself, but the other sure has got fangs. 
 You don't say much about Bodine ; I guess you forgot, eh, old- 
 timer? Well, Elmer, I don't mean that Bodine is not a hard 
 man himself; he sure was a hard one down there; he sure 
 cleaned them investors and got away with a nice piece of 
 money from the oil company he had, some said a couple hun- 
 dred thousand. They make a hard pair to beat. 
 
 Well, I guess he will make it good in the oil business up 
 north there, too. Why didn't you ask about Bodine, too, El- 
 mer? He sure is a slick hombre, like I said, Elmer; and 
 Grogan sure is a stiff citizen. When I say a man is hard you 
 can believe it, eh, Elmer? He is Bodine's strong-arm guy. 
 Bodine does the dealing and Grogan discourages the kickers. 
 Don't play with them, Elmer, they are bad boys. 
 
 Well, I will go out and mail this when it is dark. Have you 
 made a stake yet, old-timer? I sure was going good myself
 
 140 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 until this trouble I told you about. It sure costs a lot, a thing 
 like that, but he should have let go. Well, Elmer, if Bodine 
 and Grogan is on the prod against your boss you tell him to 
 play them close to his chest and watch Grogan's hands. 
 
 What are chances up north there and how is the grub ? This 
 will blow over soon, I mean my trouble. Well, Elmer, I sure 
 was glad to do you a favor about Grogan. How are you? 
 Adios, old-timer. ALAMEDA SLIM.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 ' I ^ARRANT received the news concerning Grogan with 
 * something akin to satisfaction. The scarred man's 
 relation to Bodine was fully established. He was the pro- 
 moter's henchman. Too harsh and violent to be of use in 
 the promotion end of the Syndicate, he yet was a valuable 
 man in the organisation. Bodine possessed a clear brain 
 and good powers of observation. These had told him that 
 a man may not perform harsh, ruthless deeds against his 
 fellow men without developing repellent traits of per- 
 sonality. A pleasing, dominant personality, which would 
 attract and win the confidence of anyone, was a prime 
 requisite in his field of endeavour. 
 
 Such a personality Bodine possessed in the extreme, 
 and he guarded it and cultivated it and never permitted 
 himself the performance of deeds which would reflect a 
 scar upon its perfectly polished surface. Yet there were 
 times, his activities being what they were, when such acts 
 were necessary to his success. There were occasions when 
 harsh methods paid best. Furthermore, a man whose 
 career was what Bodine's was made enemies, and enemies 
 in the oil fields of the time were not averse to violence. 
 
 So Grogan was a member of the Syndicate force. His 
 connection was not open, nor were his duties publicly ex- 
 plained, but Tarrant had seen enough of him to realise 
 that Alameda Slim's letter told the truth. He was satis- 
 fied. The dregs of self-reproach which he had quaffed 
 since he had so recklessly swung Marjorie to his saddle 
 
 141
 
 142 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 had turned to bitterness in his soul. He had resolved to 
 seek her out again and apologise and attempt to explain 
 the ebullition of spirit which had prompted the act, but 
 he had seen her once again as she caught sight of him on 
 the street, and the resolution had died. She had not looked 
 away, neither had she flushed. Rather she had gone pale 
 and cold, and every atom of her being had expressed 
 silently her fateful words : "If you ever speak to me again 
 may God punish you as you deserve !" 
 
 Tarrant saw her occasionally as one of a party con- 
 sisting of herself and father, Mrs. Wayne and Wayne 
 and Bodine in the latter's car. He heard tales of dinner 
 parties for the five on the Stringer Roof Garden at Ranger 
 Falls, and he strove in his bitterness to conjure up dark 
 thoughts, sought to nourish the skepticism of his kind 
 concerning women. But each time the picture of her, a 
 clean, fine spirit, calling to what was clean and fine in him, 
 rose out of the murk of his mood, and he was glad he was 
 wrong glad and bitter. The barrier was up between 
 them. Like a fool he had played into Bodine's hands by 
 permitting the wild boy in him to alienate her by one 
 mad act. 
 
 Wherefore he found the presence of Grogan not un- 
 welcome to his troubled spirit. When he met the scarred 
 man he now made no effort to conceal the mood in which 
 he stared at him. In truth there was no need for them 
 to say aught to one another. Each understood. And 
 Tarrant watched Grogan and Grogan watched Tarrant 
 with the eyes of a hunter who is hunting and knows his 
 quarry is hunting him. The result, however, instead of 
 producing indications of an imminent clash were just the 
 opposite. Bodine, apparently, had cautioned Grogan, for
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 143 
 
 the latter ceased his wanderings about the field in the 
 vicinity of Tarrant's operations. He avoided Tarrant's 
 producing wells and the wildcat, as well as Tarrant him- 
 self. 
 
 One Saturday night Tarrant stood alone before the 
 shack which served him as office and sleeping quarters. 
 A restlessness filled his being. His young blood ran 
 hotly, and within him was an urge and a discontent which 
 made him uneasy. Above him a troubled sky was illu- 
 mined at intervals by the uncertain shimmer of heat 
 lightning. About Tin Spout lay the great open plains, 
 with their slightly rolling hills, measureless as the billows 
 of a boundless sea. 
 
 Tarrant moved restlessly and his eyes were turned away 
 from the town. Low down in the darkness, out on the 
 country roads could be seen tiny lights streaking across 
 the face of night like swift will-o'-the-wisps. They were 
 motor cars, and as it was Saturday night Tarrant knew 
 that most of them bore loads of prosperous, reckless oil- 
 men bent upon the pursuit of the oil fields' hectic night 
 pleasures. Tin Spout as yet did not provide these pleas- 
 ures either in quantity or quality sufficient to satisfy the 
 demand, hence a goodly portion of the field's population 
 was on wheels to-night, proceeding swiftly whither such 
 pleasures were to be obtained. 
 
 Tarrant drove his car down to the gasoline station in 
 Tin Spout. Two gaging machines were at work pouring 
 fuel into the tanks of cars and yet there was a jam at the 
 station which forced Tarrant to wait long for his turn. 
 He alighted from his car and walked forward. 
 
 "Lafe," said he sternly to the proprietor, "I suspect that
 
 144 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 is Choctaw beer you are running into those tanks. It 
 sure is too popular to be gasoline." 
 
 "If it was Choc, Spence," chuckled the garage man, 
 wiping his brow, "I'd have this spigot in my mouth 'stead 
 in this tank." 
 
 "Come on!" spoke a voice 'peremptorily. "Fill those 
 road lice and give a real car a chance." 
 
 Bodine's great car came rolling up, and the chauffeur 
 talked as he came. 
 
 "Make it be quick; my people are waiting. Fill 'er up 
 to the snozzle. The emergency tank too. This will be an 
 all-night party, I suspect. We're going over to the Coun- 
 try Club, and by the signs I guess we won't be back here 
 till Monday A.M." 
 
 The chauffeur winked at the garage man in a manner 
 which drew a query. 
 
 "Something special going with you ?" 
 
 The chauffeur leaned forward confidentially. 
 
 "The new chicken," whispered he. "She's so innocent 
 she thinks the Country Club is a country club." 
 
 "Just the two of them going?" 
 
 "Nix. Think he's a coarse worker?" said the chauf- 
 feur. "Wayne and 'his wife, too. Smooth stuff, you 
 know. A nice little family party !" 
 
 As Tarrant walked back to his car a voice greeted him 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Tarrant, Tarrant? I thought I see your car," said 
 Old Man Swanson. "Boy, you look wild as a wildcat. 
 Just like I feel. Don't give a demn for expense; going to 
 have a good time to-night." 
 
 Tarrant leaned against his car and quietly recovered 
 his poise.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 145 
 
 "You darned old alcohol-drinking, snuff-chewing Scan- 
 dihoovian," he drawled "Haven't you got any respect 
 for the few gray hairs you've got left ? You ought to be 
 living a different life, Swanson ; ought to be giving young 
 fellows like me advice, and setting an example and telling 
 how hard you worked and how smart you were to make 
 your fortune. Ain't you ever going to grow old ?" 
 
 "I was old when I was young, Tarrant," bubbled the 
 millionaire. "Worked like hal' all day long an' never 
 looked at the 'brewirin.' Then the country goes dry and I 
 begin to drink and the boys hit oil on my ranch. To hal' 
 with advice! Think I am demn hypocrite? What you 
 doing to-night, Tarrant? You got a girl?" 
 
 Tarrant shook his head. 
 
 "You look hard, boy," said Swanson after a pause. 
 "Where you going ?" 
 
 "Why, I was thinking of running out to the Country 
 Club, Swanson," replied Tarrant. 
 
 "Me too, Tarrant," said the old man, "though they rob 
 you out there now. They rob you on the price of booze, 
 and they rob you with a crooked wheel and a brace box, 
 and if they don't get it all that way they put some demn 
 dope in your drink and go through your pockets, and if 
 you holler they give you the black jeck and throw you out. 
 It's a hell hole now." 
 
 "You seem to know all about it, old-timer," said Tar- 
 rant. 
 
 "Of course," was the unabashed retort "Don't I go 
 out there every night ?" 
 
 "Ole, you'll never amount to anything, running round 
 and frequenting disreputable resorts the way you do," 
 drawled the young man.
 
 146 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Nos-sir-ee ! It was a demn nice place till that Grogan 
 got hold of it and " 
 
 "What!" 
 
 Tarrant's cloak of nonchalance was flung aside in a 
 flash. 
 
 "Good cripes, Tarrant !" expostulated Swanson. "Don't 
 scare me to death." 
 
 "Grogan out there running the Country Club?" 
 
 "Certainly. Didn't you know?" 
 
 "Is he out there now to-night?" 
 
 "Saturday night? Of course he is." 
 
 "Well," said Tarrant after a pause, "I reckon I ought 
 to run out and see what it is like."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 wickedly famed establishment which existed 
 * under the name of the Country Club was out in the 
 country, but with this its right to the use of the title 
 ended. It was a long, one-story building set down on the 
 plains so far from the habitations of mankind that it was 
 considered to be beyond the law. Good roads and the 
 motor car made it possible and profitable. The roads led 
 from various cities and towns and oil fields, and the cars 
 which came rolling thither nightly bore representatives of 
 all classes of men to be found in the section. The cold- 
 eyed financier and the lowly roughneck rubbed shoulders. 
 The millionaire who was made yesterday sat at a table 
 with the man who had gone broke the same day. Whisky 
 was fifty dollars a quart. That was the only fact to be 
 considered. If a man could and would buy this com- 
 modity at that price he was welcome, regardless of all 
 else. He might be a criminal, a murderer, and often he 
 was, but at the far-famed Country Club his money was as 
 good as any man's in the realm. 
 
 The place was in reality built around a great dance 
 floor. Booths and lightly partitioned rooms lined the 
 wall. In the booths the dance-hall girls pursued the weary 
 task of wiling drinks from the customers between dances, 
 and in other rooms prevailed the whir and click of the 
 roulette wheel, the rattle of chips and the hectic atmosphere 
 of wild gambling. 
 
 Tarrant was no stranger to the Country Club, but his 
 
 147
 
 148 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 visits had been infrequent, and as he noted the number 
 and quality of the motor cars parked outside he saw that 
 great changes had taken place. There was a new note in 
 the cars, the crowd, everything. It was driven home to 
 him that a new day had dawned in the oil fields. It was 
 the day of the boom. New elements were present, height- 
 ening the pitch of frenzy which invariably obtained here 
 on Saturday night. There had always been a number of 
 valuable cars to be seen outside the Country Club at night, 
 but now there were solid ranks of them. They were not 
 merely expensive, but showy, the sort of cars driven by 
 men flashily seeking to create an impression. As Tarrant 
 thrust his way through the crowd which swarmed about 
 the entrance he saw the men who owned these cars and h 
 saw they were of the new element that had descended 
 upon the oil fields. Keen, bold, crafty and well dressed, 
 they presented a contrast to the red-faced, rough and 
 hearty oilmen with whom they mingled. 
 
 Within the building a new, a tenser atmosphere seemed 
 to prevail. The jazz was louder and wilder, the dance 
 faster, the crowd more excited and more reckless in its 
 abandon. The doors to the gambling rooms were open. 
 Women gambled, their gowns bright spots of color among 
 the duck or khaki of the men, their bursts of strained 
 laughter shrill punctuation of the insistent male growl 
 which rose from the throng. 
 
 Tarrant had driven recklessly and chosen short cuts and 
 he had arrived in advance of Bodine and his party. He 
 strolled forward, greeting Hennessy and other friends 
 casually. A waiter motioned him to a booth where a 
 girl sat waiting, but Tarrant merely smiled and went on. 
 A roughneck, unshaven and bleary and red-clayed to the
 
 Tarrant -of Tin Spout 149 
 
 knees, staggered into the booth and was greeted with a 
 smile. Tarrant looked in the roulette room. A strange 
 man was in charge. Strange men were in charge every- 
 where. He sensed this as part of the change. Hard- 
 featured, brutalised men lounged about with the eyes of 
 wolves. He saw the waiter pick the roughneck's pocket 
 while the girl held his attention, then four of the hard- 
 faced men made a rush and the roughneck was thrown out 
 so expeditiously that he had not even time to make his 
 protest heard. 
 
 "They can't get rough in here," said a head waiter with 
 affected indignation. "They gotta behave." 
 
 A girl with bare arms came skipping across the floor 
 to Tarrant. 
 
 "Hello, buddy," she said. "Going to dance?" 
 
 "I'm sorry, but I am not dancing," said Tarrant. 
 
 "But you're going to buy me a drink, aren't you?" she 
 persisted mechanically. 
 
 "A so ft drink?" 
 
 "Hell !" she said calmly. "You look like a live one, too." 
 
 Tarrant left the dance floor and entered the room de- 
 voted to stud poker. Here as elsewhere there was a new 
 feverishness in the atmosphere. Men whom Tarrant rec- 
 ognised as old hands at the game were betting with the 
 recklessness of men who were intoxicated. They were 
 intoxicated, he decided, after looking on for a while. 
 Every man there was intoxicated, even though he did not 
 touch drink. Tarrant caught the significance of it all 
 now, and he saw the sudden wealth of the oil fields as a 
 hungry river of liquid gold, pouring up from the earth 
 and engulfing all who came in its way; dazzling, luring, 
 maddening them until in desperation they hurled them-
 
 150 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 selves frantically into the heart of the current and were 
 swept away by the power of the rich, crude oil. 
 
 Then he caught sight of Bodine. The promoter had 
 just entered, and as he stood surveying the room he 
 smiled, but shook his head. Tarrant worked his way to- 
 ward the door as a head waiter came hurrying obse- 
 quiously up to Bodine. 
 
 "Got a nice booth for you over in the corner, Mr. BCH 
 dine," he heard the waiter say. "Fix it up with a curtain 
 in front if you say so." 
 
 Bodine shook his head, while smiling appreciatively at 
 the scene on the floor. 
 
 "No, Joe, I'm afraid this would be a little too much of 
 a treat for my company all at once," he said with a laugh. 
 "Yes, just a little bit too strong for a starter. Where is 
 Grogan?" 
 
 "He is in the office, Mr. Bodine." 
 
 "All right. Tell him I want the "private room, and tell 
 him to make it his own particular business to see that no- 
 tody intrudes on us." 
 
 "Yes, sir. How many in the party, Mr. Bodine ?" 
 
 "Four," said the promoter, "but the other pair will be 
 dancing most of the time." 
 
 The effect of Bodine's words on Tarrant was akin to 
 that of an explosive. 
 
 "Like a charge of nitro on the cap rock," he thought 
 afterwards. Even as the released forces of gas and oil 
 rush to the surface at the smash of the explosive, so Tar- 
 rant felt the old recklessness in him, the combined intensity 
 and devil-may-careness which in earlier days might have 
 made him a killer, welling up within him and craving 
 expression. He yearned for violence. His mood just
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 151 
 
 then was the mood of a bad man with the fighting lust 
 upon him. He was in no fog ; no poison of anger clouded 
 his brain. On the contrary his sense of perception was 
 abnormally keen and alert. The smirk of the oily-faced 
 head waiter, even the sneak's poise of the man's head as he 
 hurried across the floor, told their tale to him. 
 
 He saw Grogan appear promptly at the waiter's sum- 
 mons. Grogan was in his shirt sleeves. Tarrant noted 
 the fact, noted that there was no bulge upon Grogan's hip 
 or elsewhere upon his person, and appraised these facts at 
 their proper value. He was carrying his own coat upon 
 his arm at the time, but now he put it on. The advantage 
 was with him. And yet this Knowledge did not satisfy 
 him. The desire for violence, not for a mere triumph, 
 was too strong within him. He regretted for the while 
 his responsibilities. He wished himself entirely free, with 
 no duties toward his stockholders, toward his properties, 
 toward anyone or anything, to be fulfilled. Bodine's 
 words were a taunt and a goad. He seemed to be choking. 
 
 "Tarrant, Tarrant, have a drink, have a drink!" cried 
 Old Man Swanson. 
 
 Tarrant thrust him aside. 
 
 "To hell with your drink!" he said thickly. 
 
 "Stewed!" stammered Swanson. "I knew something 
 was wrong." 
 
 Grogan had unlocked a door near the roulette room and 
 was standing before it, waiting. 
 
 "Stop the jazz!" he ordered. "Clear the floor. Stop 
 the rough stuff." 
 
 The head waiter and his cohorts spread swiftly to obey 
 the order. The orchestra stopped playing abruptly. 
 Dancers were hustled off the floor, and noisy celebrants
 
 152 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 were roughly quieted. The room achieved a momentary 
 appearance of decorum. Bodine had entered and was 
 swiftly ushering his party toward the door Grogan was 
 guarding. Tarrant saw Marjorie start as she looked 
 round. Bodine's hand was upon her arm and he laughed 
 assuringly. 
 
 "Just a little dance party," said Bodine. "Isn't it, 
 Wayne?" 
 
 "Just a nice little dance party," agreed Wayne fatu- 
 ously. 
 
 Marjorie hesitated. A dance-hall girl had projected 
 herself into her field of vision, and the abbreviated cos- 
 tume of her profession was startling. 
 
 "A costume dance," purred Bodine. 
 
 "Yes, yes. Costume dance," echoed Wayne. "Isn't it, 
 my dear?" 
 
 "Yes, of course," tittered Mrs. Wayne. "Besides, we'll 
 be all alone, dearie. For goodness sake, come on !" 
 
 Marjorie had definitely halted. She had freed her arm 
 from Bodine's hand and was staring about her. 
 
 "But you said it was a country club!" she exclaimed. 
 "You said " 
 
 "It's Saturday night!" laughed Bodine. "The mem- 
 bers get a little playful. Come along." 
 
 "Dearie, you don't for a minute fancy I would be here 
 if it wasn't perfectly all right, do you?" demanded Mrs. 
 Wayne. 
 
 "Nice, qaiet little crowd," said Wayne. 
 
 Marjorie looked round. The crowd was quiet. For 
 the moment no improprieties were apparent. Mrs. Wayne 
 she knew to be, if not a particularly intelligent, at least, 
 a good woman.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 153 
 
 "Step in this way, please," said the head waiter, bow- 
 ing obsequiously before the open door of the private 
 room. 
 
 It was the last he remembered for several minutes, for 
 as he turned a hard fist struck him on the jaw and he 
 tumbled headlong into the private room. 
 
 "Grogan," came Tarrant's challenge icily, "I am calling 
 you." 
 
 The blow and the sound of a man falling ruined Gro- 
 gan's orders to keep the place quiet A cry rose from the 
 crowd. It became a roar. 
 
 "Fight fight !" rang the cries. "Jazz it up. Ee-yow." 
 The pent-up intoxication of the crowd vented itself in a 
 wild outburst. Men shouted and laughed. Women 
 screamed hysterically. A drunken roughneck smashed a 
 bottle on the floor. A bouncer struck him, a fight started, 
 and in a moment a dozen men were embroiled. Curses 
 rose above the sound of blows, and a girl all by herself 
 with a whisky bottle in her hand, stood upon a table and 
 dared anyone to touch her, just dare to touch her ! 
 
 The fight about the drunken roughneck had been made 
 possible because a majority of the bouncers had run to- 
 ward Tarrant and consequently were not at their posts to 
 suppress the disorder when it began. 
 
 "Grogan, I am calling you," said Tarrant, and the 
 bouncers stopped. 
 
 Grogan's countenance was a study. All the feral char- 
 acteristics of the man had asserted themselves and found 
 expression in his face. It was the face of an enraged 
 tiger, slit eyed, bare toothed, deadly, but a tiger cornered 
 and afraid to spring. The automatic movement of his 
 hands, the thumbs curved out, toward his flanks, and the
 
 154 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 look of defeat in his eyes as his hands found nothing, be- 
 trayed him. 
 
 "They are not there, Grogan," said Tarrant in the same 
 deadly tone. "Why don't you wear a coat ?" 
 
 Grogan's eyes leaped with fear at the words. His gaze 
 flashed to the left breast of Tarrant's loose coat, at the 
 oilman's right hand, and his mouth closed and came open 
 with a gasp. His hands rose helplessly to a level with his 
 ears. 
 
 "What you after me for ?" he gasped. 
 
 The bouncers were sneaking toward Tarrant's back, 
 but Old Man Swanson and Jim Hennessy and a dozen 
 oilmen came roughly to the fore. 
 
 "Bodine, Bodine," said the old man, "this is your fault. 
 This girl should not be here. You know that. Don't give 
 a demn for expense," he exploded as a bouncer snarled at 
 him. "Going to see fair play here to-night !" 
 
 Marjorie had drawn back at the clash between Tarrant 
 and Grogan. The full import of the scene was hidden to 
 her, but instinctively she sensed what the others under- 
 stood from experience. Courageous as she was she 
 quailed before this. Her whole being revolted. She felt 
 weak and alone and faint. 
 
 "Come." There was a rough arm about her waist, sup- 
 porting her, leading her toward the door. She was not 
 conscious whose arm it was, but it was strong and friendly 
 and she leaned upon it gratefully. She felt herself being 
 helped into a car, and the open air revived her. 
 
 "Wait, wait !" she cried. 
 
 "Don't you worry, miss," said Hennessy, the well 
 shooter. "I'm no angel, but I will see you out of this." 
 
 "But I don't know you," she faltered.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 155 
 
 "I am a friend of Spence Tarrant's," said Hennessy, 
 "and I have daughters of my own." 
 
 "But he Mr. Tarrant " 
 
 Hennessy grinned as he threw in the clutch. 
 
 "Don't worry," said he tersely, "Spence won't hurt 
 them." 
 
 Within the room Tarrant had backed across the floor 
 and stood in the doorway, grimly facing the sullen crowd. 
 The tension had risen to the breaking point. And then 
 the crowd gasped, stood frozen dumb, dazed. Tarrant 
 flung wide the sides of his coat, and showed that there 
 was no weapon beneath ; there was nothing but a pongee 
 silk shirt. And then he smiled and vanished in the night
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 T TENNESSY drove swiftly and in silence until he had 
 * * put a good distance between them and the Country 
 Club, then he reduced the speed and threw his gray head 
 back with a shout of laughter. 
 
 "By golly, that boy Tarrant is a corker!" he confided 
 to the world in general. "Young lady, I reckon you didn't 
 get his scheme?" 
 
 "His scheme?" repeated Marjorie in bewilderment. 
 
 "Sure !" roared the old man. "You didn't think he was 
 doing that for fun, did you ?" 
 
 "I didn't know how could I know what he was doing 
 it for?" said the girl. "It was a quarrel, was it not? 
 That is all I saw. Oh, it was terrible terrible " 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha !" exploded the well shooter. "It was ter- 
 rible ! Oh, sure, it was terrible. He's a terrible guy !" 
 
 "Mr. Bodine said he was drunk?" said she timidly. 
 
 "Drunk? Tarrant?'' snapped Hennessy. "Only time I 
 see him drunk was two years ago, time of the big camp 
 meeting at Tin Spout, and then we all got laid out on one 
 drink because 'the stuff the bootleggers sold us was doped. 
 No, sir young lady, that isn't his style. No drinking 
 man could pull off a slick trick like that." 
 
 "A trick?" repeated Marjorie. "I don't understand." 
 
 "Miss," said Hennessy, "when you come out there you 
 you didn't know what sort of a place it was, did you ?" 
 
 "No," she replied with a shudder. "They Mr. Bo- 
 dine and Wayne said it was a country club." 
 
 156
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 157 
 
 The well shooter drove in silence for a full minute. 
 
 "Poor Wayne!" he said grimly. "Well, Spence Tar- 
 rant saw you didn't know same as the rest of us did. 
 Miss, there was a rough crowd out there to-night, but I'm 
 telling you there was a whole lot of men sore to see you 
 there and sore at a certain party. But the difference was 
 that Spence had brains enough to do something. He 
 didn't want to see you to stay there, in that private room, 
 same as we didn't; and he jumped Grogan just to give you 
 time to get a good look and make up your mind about 
 staying or not. I seen him when he drove up. He had 
 his coat off then. 
 
 "I've seen a few nervy things in my day, miss," con- 
 tinued Hennessy. "Man running a torpedo business does. 
 I see a well blow herself in with a shell full of nitro half- 
 way down the casing and the shooter stood by and caught 
 the shell when she shot up. But to walk up to Grogan, 
 with his gang of thugs and high jackets round him and to 
 bluff him without a gun miss, when you get old you can 
 tell your grandchildren once upon a time you saw a tnan I" 
 
 Marjorie's thoughts and emotions were in a tumult. 
 She huddled back in the seat and was glad that the dark- 
 ness hid her face. The shock of the scene at the Country 
 Club was still upon her. The barrenness of the prairie 
 night through which they were driving oppressed her 
 with a sense of loneliness, even helplessness. But above 
 all, though she refused to admit it even to herself, there 
 ran a memory which thrilled her and sent the red in waves 
 to her cheeks. She had known this emotion once before, 
 and then as now it was intermingled with anger and a 
 sense of humiliation and even shame. Why, oh why, 
 should the sight of him bring it back so vividly! Why
 
 158 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 the spectacle of Tarrant ready to engage in a a brawl 
 stir her so? Why should it bring back the strange mo- 
 ment which had come to her that day after he had she 
 searched her mind indignantly for the proper phrase 
 when he had played the brute? A blush mantled her 
 countenance and she turned away from Hennessy in spite 
 of the darkness. 
 
 "You look a little tired, miss," said Hennessy kindly as 
 he helped her out at the hotel in Tin Spout. "Don't you 
 let it pester you. Unpleasant things is bound to happen 
 to the best of us. Chalk it up to experience, that's my 
 system." 
 
 "But such an experience!" said Marjorie with a shudder. 
 
 "It was tough," agreed Hennessy. "But even so, you 
 can figure a profit in it. Folks who never went out to the 
 Country Club with Bodine don't know just what he or it 
 is." 
 
 Marjorie went to her father's room and knocked. Dick- 
 inson opened the door. The floor of his room was strewn 
 with newspapers, and he was considerably excited. 
 
 "I tell you, Marjorie," he exclaimed, expressing the 
 thought in his mind regardless of her appearance, "oil is 
 the greatest thing in the world just at present. Look at 
 those papers. Not a one of them but has an item about 
 the great fortunes being made in oil. Look here, here's 
 a long article about Adair. The new Rockefeller they call 
 him. Began just as I am doing, with an investment in 
 oil. Now owns refineries, pipe lines; millionaire many 
 times over; one of the big, strong men of the country. A 
 young man, too ; like Bodine " 
 
 "Daddy," said Marjorie quietly. She was sitting with
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 159 
 
 her chin in her hands, looking blankly before her, obvi- 
 ously unconscious of his remarks. 
 
 "Eh?" said Dickinson absently. "And the real boom 
 in the oil business has only begun. Look where the price 
 is to-day ; two dollars a barrel, and the refiners offering a 
 premium of twenty-five cents. "Look at the way the auto- 
 mobile factories are turning out cars. We'll have a nation 
 on wheels. All have got to buy gasoline, and who will 
 profit most? Oil! That's it. It's big, big " 
 
 "Were you ever out at the Country Club ?" asked Mar- 
 jorie flatly. 
 
 "Eh, what?" Dickinson faltered in full flight and 
 stared at her over his glasses. "What say, Marjorie?" 
 
 She repeated her question. 
 
 "H'm," said her father. 
 
 "With Mr. Bodine?" 
 
 "H'm," said Dickinson again. 
 
 Marjorie lifted her face and looked up at him. 
 
 "Daddy, why did you allow Mr. Bodine to take me out 
 to that place this evening?" she asked. 
 
 "Bodine Bodine is here, isn't he, Marjorie?" asked 
 Dickinson anxiously. 
 
 "No," she said; "I left him when I saw what sort of a 
 place it was. A man named Hennessy drove me home." 
 
 "What?" Dickinson threw out his arms and began to 
 pace the floor. "You haven't offended Bodine, I hope, 
 Marjorie? You haven't done that. Why why you 
 mustn't you mustn't antagonise him. Think what a 
 chance he is giving me. A chance to get up among the 
 big men of the country. You wouldn't spoil my chance, 
 would you, Marjorie?" 
 
 The girl rose.
 
 160 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Are you going to answer my question?" she asked 
 coldly. "Why did you let me go with him out to that 
 place?" 
 
 "Why, great Scott, Marjorie, there was no harm done," 
 he stammered indignantly. "Don't you think I know what 
 is best for you ? Don't you think I do my best for you ? 
 I hope you haven't seriously offended Mr. Bodine ? Great 
 Scott ! Tell me about it." 
 
 "Since you prefer not to answer me, I won't stay any 
 longer," she said. "Mr. Bodine will tell you about it, I 
 suppose. Good-night, daddy." 
 
 She went slowly to her room, but she made no prepara- 
 tion to retire. Seated on the side of her bed she folded 
 her arms and sat staring at the floor. Her father's words, 
 inspired by his quickened greed, obtruded new thoughts 
 upon her. She had seen how the craze for oil wealth had 
 affected men, driving them into a frenzy, sweeping them 
 off their feet, engulfing them in a sudden madness. Was 
 she, too, caught in this oil craze ? Was she merely a pawn 
 in the great game being played for the stakes of liquid 
 gold? 
 
 She lost track of time as she sat and pondered. It grew 
 late, but people gave but little time for sleep at Tin Spout 
 then, so the hotel did not grow quiet, though midnight 
 approached and passed. "I must know," she murmured. 
 "I will make him tell me." 
 
 She went down the hall to her father's room. The door 
 was ajar and as she peered in she halted. Bodine and her 
 father were together and the promoter's heavy voice was 
 audible in the hall. 
 
 "Tarrant started a row, that's all," he was saying easily. 
 "I have given up trying to use him. Wish we could. He
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 161 
 
 could make a lot of money for us. But there is no chance. 
 We'll get rid of him. He will have to leave this field." 
 
 "I knew him for a ruffian the moment I laid eyes on 
 him," babbled Dickinson. 
 
 "He's the best oilman here," said Bodine coldly. 
 "That's why I put up with him as long as I have, hoping 
 we could use him. Now he is through here. We'll send 
 him out of here with nothing but his bare hands." 
 
 "And serve him right, too!" added Dickinson. "The 
 quicker we are rid of him the better." 
 
 "Don't worry; it won't be long," said Bodine with a 
 laugh as he turned to go. "You won't forget to explain 
 to Marjorie?" 
 
 "Leave that to me, Mr. Bodine," interrupted the doctor 
 unctuously. "I assure you she understands. Yes, yes; 
 she is a clever girl she understands." 
 
 Marjorie fled to her room and locked herself in. Tears 
 of shame and helplessness came to her eyes. She saw her- 
 self as a pawn a pawn in the mad game of oil ! Doctor 
 Dickinson was right : she did understand. 
 
 Elmer's reaction to the affair was characteristic. He 
 went directly to the office which the Pan-National Syndi- 
 cate had opened at Tin Spout. A clerk halted him at the 
 door of the president's sanctum, but Bodine, recognizing 
 the old man's voice, called heartily : "Come in !" 
 
 "Sit down. Have a cigar," said the promoter. "What 
 is on your chest ?" 
 
 "Hair," said Elmer, and looked at him with his faded 
 blue eyes. Bodine returned the scrutiny unmoved. 
 
 "Old man," said he presently, "I wish you were working 
 for me."
 
 162 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Hell !" exploded Elmer. "Slim was right : this one is 
 a stiff citizen, too. Hornbre, I ain't working for you, and 
 I don't aim to ; and I am working for Spence Tarrant, and 
 I ain't so old but what my eyes are good and I know a 
 hired gunman when I see one. Bodine, I came here to 
 give you notice: if this thing comes back on Tarrant / 
 start hunting you." 
 
 "I still maintain I wish you were working for me," re- 
 turned Bodine imperturbably. 
 
 "And I'm a good hunter, Bodine," the old man went 
 on, "and I know all about you and Grogan down at 
 Tampico." 
 
 A glimmer of surprise flickered the steadiness of the 
 promoter's gaze for an instant. 
 
 "And Tarrant knows !" continued Elmer. "Yes, by the 
 lord Harry! He knew what Grogan was, and he bucked 
 him without a gun. That means a come-back, unless you 
 whisper a word to Grogan. Better do it, Bodine. There 
 ain't enough of me left to be careful about. I'm depending 
 on you to see that it won't be necessary for me to lay off 
 the job and turn you into about two hundred pounds of 
 spoiled meat."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A N accident to the string of tools used in drilling the 
 * ^- wildcat well engrossed all of Tarrant's energy and 
 attention for the next few days. Fifteen hundred feet 
 down in the earth, at the bottom of the tiny hole, the huge 
 steel bit was jarred loose and the progress of the well was 
 halted while the nerve-wrecking job of "fishing" was be- 
 gun. Somehow the heavy piece of steel must be hooked 
 and drawn to the surface. Unless this could be accom- 
 plished the rig must be moved and a new hole be started. 
 
 Tarrant's means at this time were so low as to make 
 it entirely out of the question for him to begin a new well. 
 Coincident with the boom price of crude oil had been the 
 rise of the expense of drilling. In the frantic scramble 
 to bring in wells while oil was up, operators did not stop 
 to check their expenditures so long as the drills went 
 downward. The wages of ordinary laborers the "rough- 
 necks" as they are known in the oil field rose by leaps 
 to ten dollars a day. Skilled labor advanced in proportion, 
 drillers being paid as high as twenty-five dollars. 
 
 Tarrant had plunged to the limit of his finances when 
 he had resolved upon drilling the No. 5 well beyond the 
 proved depth in hope of striking a deep oil sand. His pro- 
 ducing wells at Tin Spout would furnish him revenue 
 sufficient to drill close to two thousand feet if the work 
 progressed steadily. The completion of Well No. 5 de- 
 pended upon recovering the lost drill promptly. 
 
 News of the accident spread in spite of Tarrant's efforts. 
 
 163
 
 164 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 to keep it secret The fishing job at the well came to be 
 one of the most discussed subjects in the field. The stock- 
 holders who had requested Tarrant to amalgamate with the 
 Syndicate heaped unlimited vituperation upon his head. 
 A few weeks before they had accounted Tarrant a friend 
 and a leader. Now they saw him as a stubborn fool, an 
 anarchist, a swindler. 
 
 As his standing in the community decreased and van- 
 ished the position of Bodine rapidly became stronger. He 
 became the dominant figure. The citizens looked up to 
 him because they felt he would bring them money. Then 
 he made a stroke which won him further respect. Word 
 was passed about that Tarrant's wildcat was ruined be- 
 yond hope of recovery. Rather than see his friends suffer 
 a total loss the Syndicate accepted each share of No. 5 
 stock as the equivalent of a 50 per cent payment on a share 
 of stock in the Pan-National Syndicate. The response 
 to this offer was such that Bodine soon held all of the 
 outstanding stock in Tarrant's well. Then, one afternoon, 
 word was mysteriously flashed through Tin Spout that 
 brought a shock to many. Fortune had favoured Tar- 
 rant. The drill was recovered and drilling had been 
 resumed. 
 
 Tarrant sat in his shack at Tin Spout that night tired 
 and silently jubilant over the good fortune by which the 
 obstacle had been overcome. Upon his return to town he 
 had found more good news. One of his small wells which 
 had steadily shown signs of going dry had, for no ap- 
 parent reason, taken on a new lease of life, and the figures 
 which his pump man handed him were a grateful surprise. 
 His income was considerably increased. 
 
 "We're filling the big tank, Mr. Tarrant," said the engi-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 165 
 
 aeer. "And high-gravity crude took another two-bit 
 jump." 
 
 "That's fine," said his employer heartily. 
 
 "Don't let anything happen to the pumps. I need every 
 cent they produce as fast as they can pump it." 
 
 The engineer had departed for the pump house but a 
 few minutes when a timid knock sounded on the door of 
 the shack. Tarrant looked up and to his surprise saw 
 the dark face of the Mexican youth Ramos, who had been 
 discharged from the crew of No. 5. The boy had a pair 
 of mud-covered oil boots under his arm and Tarrant shook 
 his head. 
 
 "No job, Ramos," said he. "We don't need anybody." 
 
 "No, no, Sefior Tarrant!" said the Mexican, smiling. 
 "I no come for job. I come from Sefior Buck to tell 
 Senor Tarrant to come to the new well pronto, and bring 
 the harpoon because the cable it is broke. Si." 
 
 "What?" gasped Tarrant. 
 
 "Si. It is Sefior Buck say I tell Sefior Tarrant that," 
 continued the Mexican. "I go out and ask Sefior Buck 
 can I get my boots which I leave. 'Si' say Sefior Buck; 
 and he give me the five dollar and say I tell Sefior Tarrant 
 come out pronto and bring the harpoon because the cable 
 it is broke." 
 
 "Is the well shut down?" asked Tarrant in a hard voice. 
 
 "Si, si!" came the reply. "All shut down." 
 
 Tarrant loaded the heavy harpoonlike tool used in 
 spearing broken cable into his car and drove furiously out 
 to the lease. As he drew near the well his heart leaped, 
 for the familiar sounds from the machinery told him the 
 drill was running.
 
 i66 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "How about it ?" he shouted as he came to a stop beside 
 the platform. "How did you get going again?" 
 
 Elmer, who was in charge of the night tower, looked 
 at him strangely. 
 
 "We ain't been shut down since you left," he said. 
 
 Questions and explanations followed swiftly. 
 
 "Ramos ? He ain't been here since I canned him. Never 
 had any boots. Think of a chola running a windy like 
 that!" 
 
 "He didn't," said Tarrant bitterly. "He was merely 
 repeating what he had been told. He was just a stalking 
 horse for someone who wanted me out of town." 
 
 The men of the day tower came tumbling out, Buck in 
 the lead. 
 
 "Mebbe they meant to lay for you along the road," sug- 
 gested Buck. 
 
 "They would have got me coming out if that was it," 
 retorted Tarrant. "No, it wasn't that." A chill ran 
 through him at a sudden thought. "The wells at Tin 
 Spout!" 
 
 He swung the car round sharply. 
 
 "Pile in Buck and the day tower!" he commanded. 
 "We are going to Tin Spout! Keep your eye peeled, 
 Elmer." 
 
 "Let's go !" cried the men, tumbling into the car. Hang- 
 ing on for dear life they shouted as the drive toward town 
 began: "Step on 'er, boss; give 'er the gas!" 
 
 Tarrant drove like a madman. 
 
 All eyes were turned ahead, straining to pierce the dark- 
 ness. The car topped a rise. The Tin Spout field at the 
 town was in sight, and at what was to be seen there Tar- 
 , rant's men cursed as one.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 167 
 
 A billowing glare of flame had split the black night 
 ahead. Tarrant needed no one to tell him whence the 
 flame came. He knew the location of every derrick and 
 jack and tank in the field in the dark and there could be 
 no mistake : the flame was from his best producing well, 
 which was the well nearest to Tin Spout's buildings. 
 
 The pumpman met him as he drove up to the well, and 
 the man's head was bloody and his face white with anger. 
 
 "Knocked me out from behind !" he roared. "When I 
 came to they had used dynamite! Blew the jack to 
 hell!" 
 
 "We will snuff it !" said Tarrant. "Get me a couple of 
 sticks of dynamite. Boys, there's a coil of wire cable by 
 the engine house ; straighten it out and bring it here." 
 
 He fastened the dynamite in the middle of the long wire 
 cable and attached a short fuse and cap. Under his direc- 
 tions the men picked up the ends of the cable, drew it as 
 taut as they could, and walked toward the fire. The cable 
 was of sufficient length to enable the men at each end to 
 avoid the thick, gaseous flames which covered the site of 
 the well. 
 
 "Now in with it, boys!" shouted Tarrant. 
 
 The men swung the cable and the dynamite went into 
 the heart of the fire. Simultaneously there was an ex- 
 plosion. The solid hood of flame and smoke was blown 
 into a thousand splattering drops of fire, but still the fire 
 in the well burned. Three times the manceuver was re- 
 peated in vain, but at the fourth attempt the explosion 
 effectively snuffed out every vestige of fire. 
 
 "Seal it seal, it quick, boys !" shouted Tarrant. 
 
 The men threw themselves at the task and it was soon 
 done and the well sealed against danger of further fire.
 
 168 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Tarrant," panted Buck, "you're an oilman!" 
 For a moment they stood, panting, scorched, but vic- 
 torious, and then the earth trembled with the force of 
 another explosion. 
 
 "Damn 'em !" shrieked Buck. "They got the tank !" 
 The storage tank, filled with crude oil, had been shat- 
 tered by a charge of explosive, and its contents, spilling 
 out upon the ground, almost instantly had been converted 
 into a roaring, leaping river of liquid fire. 

 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 TF they want that game they can have it," cried Tarrant. 
 A storage tank belonging to the Syndicate well loomed 
 up in the darkness, and with a box of dynamite under his 
 arm and a burning fuse in his hand he ran toward it. 
 "Stop !" shouted a guard. "Stop, or I'll shoot !" 
 "Shoot and be damned!" cried Tarrant. "There's dy- 
 namite enough here to blow us both to bits !" 
 
 The guard ran. Tarrant placed his charge beneath the 
 tank and retreated to a place of safety. Again the earth 
 quavered like jelly. The tank leaped into the air. Great 
 gouts of fire spattered the landscape. And another roar- 
 ing river of fire joined, spread itself over the earth, con- 
 suming all that it came in contact with. 
 
 "Even so far!" shouted Tarrant. "Their next play!" 
 "They have done it !" screamed Buck, placing his mouth 
 close to Tarrant's ear to make himself heard above the 
 roaring flame. "They have pulled the cap off the casing 
 of hell! Look!" 
 
 Tarrant's storage tank, which had been blown up, 
 stood on a slight slope which ran directly down to Tin 
 Spout's street of shacks. The burning oil following the 
 line of least resistance, had rolled down the slope, hissing 
 and roaring like some primordial beast bereft of its 
 tongue, a ruthless river of flame which there was no dam- 
 ming, no resisting. A derrick in its path had become a 
 colossal beacon which lighted up the scene; a tool house 
 was swallowed at one roaring gulp. The oil was burning 
 itself out as it went, but fiery trickles, racing ahead of the 
 
 169
 
 170 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 main body, had reached the street and the first buildings 
 already were afire. 
 
 Tin Spout was destined to be a feast for any fire that 
 started there. Oil-soaked timbers lay about everywhere. 
 There were even pools of crude oil in the hollows. And 
 the tinder-dry wooden buildings of the town stood side by 
 side, ready to burn like so much prepared kindling. 
 
 The crackling rivulets of oil reached three separate 
 buildings simultaneously and in a moment three separate 
 fires, soon to be blended into one, were raging fiercely. 
 The shrieks and cries of human beings strove in vain to 
 pierce the steady brawl of the oil- fed flames. A gasoline 
 tank blew up. Fat blobs of fire fell upon tinder-dry roofs ; 
 and the street of Tin Spout immediately became a flame- 
 illumined bedlam. 
 
 Tarrant ran swiftly into the town. More gasoline tanks 
 were blowing up. The sudden flares had the effect of so 
 many explosions. The flash and roar of a new outburst 
 illumined and stunned; and the intervals were dark by 
 contrast, though the destruction of everything inflam- 
 mable within reach of the flames continued steadily. 
 
 "It's hell !" cried a man's voice thickly. "It's hell and 
 I'm in the middle of it!" 
 
 Tarrant recognised the voice and the figure staggering 
 aimlessly about, and cried out as he sprang forward. 
 
 "Wayne!" he shouted. He caught him by the shirt 
 front and shook him furiously. "Where is Miss Dickin- 
 son ? What are you doing here without your wife ?" 
 
 Wayne recognised his captor and shrieked above the 
 roar of the flames : 
 
 "And here's the devil that did it ! Tarrant, you're the 
 devil that turned this hell loose, you "
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 171 
 
 "Wayne!" cried Tarrant. "You're drunk!" 
 
 "Drunk?" said Wayne. "No, sir. I'm in hell, I tell 
 you oh, my God!" A breath of sanity blew over him. 
 "Honey honey she's still back there!" 
 
 "Back where! Sober up or I'll smash you. Back 
 where?" 
 
 "Chili Joe's hotel. I forgot all about her. Honey and 
 Marjorie ! I " 
 
 Tarrant threw him to one side and ran on. A man 
 recognised him. 
 
 "You !" he shouted threateningly. "This is your 
 
 doing!" 
 
 Tarrant struck savagely and leaped over him. Men 
 were pouring out of Chili Joe's hotel in various stages of 
 unarray, while others were making a futile attempt to 
 save the building. A blob of burning oil fell with a flop 
 on the roof and the dry shingles seemed to explode in 
 flame. At an open window in the second floor appeared a 
 figure in white, the figure of a woman, her ashen face 
 maddened by fright. 
 
 "Mrs. Wayne!" whispered someone. "She's gone!" 
 
 The woman had turned back from the window. Tar- 
 rant sprang for the stairs which ran up the side of the 
 building, and half a dozen men sprang with him. They 
 jammed at the first step and a heavy elbow jolted him be- 
 neath the ear. 
 
 "Damn you! Go first then if you're so eager," said 
 Tarrant ; and then he saw that the man was Bodine. 
 
 But Bodine did not follow with a rush up the stairs. 
 He halted and stood, looking up. The fat light of the 
 flames was upon his upturned countenance, and his 
 expression had suddenly become tigerish. Tarrant fol-
 
 172 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 lowed the direction of his glance and stood frozen. A 
 wave of humility swept over him; he felt abased, un- 
 worthy, as if he were committing sacrilege by lifting his 
 eyes. And he looked away. 
 
 Two women stood on the top stair and Mar j one waa 
 one of them. The flame of a blazing derrick was like a 
 sun behind her, gleaming lustrously upon her hair, glint- 
 ing upon the sheen of her silken garment, and ruthlessly 
 and rosily revealing the budding girl body beneath the 
 sheer silk of her nightgown. 
 
 Her arms were full of clothes which she had not had 
 time to don, for Mrs. Wayne had become hysterical with 
 fright and Marjorie had been forced to draw her to safety 
 with no delay. The fright-crazed woman had clutched at 
 Marjorie and torn her gown, and the girl's rounded vir- 
 ginal shoulder glowed like rosy ivory in the light of the 
 dancing flames. The shouts of the men at the foot of 
 the stairs died down into an awed silence. Some looked 
 away, some stared, and a curious change came over their 
 faces; one or two fumblingly removed their hats. Bo- 
 dine's lips parted. His eyes feasted gloatingly upon the 
 spectacle above him, and the look of a drunkard crept into 
 his eyes. He gathered himself for the spring upward. 
 Then the flaming derrick fell in a heap and the stairway 
 was plunged in momentary darkness. The moment was 
 busily employed by Marjorie, and when the timbers of 
 the fallen derrick again flared into light she was revealed 
 arranged in a hastily donned skirt and a dressing gown 
 from beneath which peeped her bare feet and ankles. 
 
 The light also revealed Tarrant well up the stairway, 
 for fearful that the sudden darkness meant disaster he
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 173 
 
 had pushed past Bodine and groped toward the two 
 women. 
 
 "Take Mrs. Wayne!" cried Marjorie. 
 
 Tarrant swept the hysterical woman off her feet and 
 carried her to the ground. Wayne was waiting there and 
 received his wife while Tarrant turned back to the hotel. 
 
 The brief moment upon the stairs had been fateful to 
 him. The light and his lofty position both had made 
 him the cynosure of all eyes, and as he was recognised a 
 medley of angry cries punctuated the roar of the flames. 
 Angry men surged toward him threateningly. Those in 
 the rear shook their fists and urged the others on, but 
 those nearest the foot of the stairs were inclined to hang 
 back, for Tarrant had turned upon them and he was not 
 pleasant to face. 
 
 Bodine sought to mount the stairs to Marjorie, but the 
 sudden congestion of the crowd thwarted him and he was 
 forced against the. building at Tarrant's side and held 
 there by the pressure of numbers. The destruction of 
 the town and the danger from the flames were forgotten 
 for an instant by the raging crowd. It had ceased for the 
 nonce to be a crowd and had become a mob, swayed and 
 driven by the primitive, brainless savagery which is called 
 mob-spirit. 
 
 "Lynch him !" howled a voice. 
 
 And other voices spoke thus : 
 
 "Get him! It's Tarrant!" 
 
 "He's the devil that did this!" 
 
 "Get him now ! He's responsible for the fire !" 
 
 Promptly upon this last howl a clear, sane voice rang 
 out: 
 
 "He is not!"
 
 174 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Mar j one had stopped halfway down the stairs. The 
 flames had reached the top of the stairway now, but her 
 countenance as she bent over the mob revealed no fear, 
 no concern for herself, only an expression of indignation 
 at a false accusation and injustice. 
 
 "I know he is not responsible!" she cried. The mob, 
 being brainless, was silenced by her imperiousness. 
 
 "I know who is responsible for the fire!" she cried. 
 "Shall I tell what I know?" 
 
 The last words seemed to galvanise Bodine into action. 
 
 "Come, come, gentlemen !" he broke out, facing the mob 
 leaders. "We can't have any of this." 
 
 His personality the personality of the superpromoter 
 rose to the occasion. 
 
 "Nobody is responsible for the fire," he went on. Per- 
 haps his audience stared at him with an expression of 
 surprise, but his personality was dominant. "It was an 
 act of Providence. It has made us all rich. Go away, 
 gentlemen. Don't waste any more time here. This fire 
 has made our boom. We have been handed a million 
 dollars' worth of publicity at the cost of a few thousand 
 dollars' worth of buildings. A million dollars' worth ! 
 Think of it! Priceless publicity. This is news. Pub- 
 licity of the kind that could not be purchased. It is what 
 we needed. Tin Spout is made!"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 fire had truly come like a gift from the gods 
 or the devil to Bodine and his associates of the 
 Pan-National Syndicate. The syndicate had not foreseen 
 the extent of the forces it had loosed, for it had not prop- 
 erly estimated Tarrant's resources nor his inclination to 
 prompt and violent retaliation when attacked. Bodine 
 had not foreseen the burning of Tin Spout. When, how- 
 ever, the burning oil from Tarrant's storage tank had 
 trickled down the slope and converted what was to have 
 been a small oil well fire into something resembling a 
 holocaust, the promoter promptly envisioned the opportu- 
 nity which the event had presented. 
 
 While Tin Spout's populace was running fearfully into 
 the street he was planning a campaign which would ade- 
 quately utilise the potential publicity which he now had 
 in his grasp. Marjorie's sudden declaration in Tarrant's 
 defence had necessitated a premature announcement of 
 the golden vision which had unrolled itself to him; but 
 even while his hands and tongue were busy dispersing the 
 mob his mind was active with the elaboration and develop- 
 ment of the campaign he had instantly planned. 
 
 The mob was dumbfounded. The promoter's vision 
 was too swift for it to follow. Had a lesser personality 
 than Bodine sought to gloss over Marjorie's outburst with 
 such an announcement he would have failed. Bodine, 
 however, knew he would not fail. This degree of con- 
 fidence was part of his equipment. The other qualities
 
 176 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 of the successful promoter, the supersalesman who thrives 
 upon the feat of dazzling his fellow beings and convincing 
 them that it is advisable to give him their money, were 
 his in no lesser degree, and as he exercised them there 
 in the glare of the burning hotel the mob spirit was shat- 
 tered in the throng before him ; it became a loose gathering 
 of rather aimless individuals, and Bodine, mentally occu- 
 pied with other plans, dazed and drove them, dispersed 
 them to the last man. 
 
 Tarrant stood grimly watching him, and despite all that 
 had gone before he was sensible of an actual admiration 
 for the feat. There was sufficient similarity between the 
 two men to make this possible. Tarrant, too, had the 
 big man's faculty of sinking petty considerations when 
 the opportunity of accomplishment presented itself, and 
 he could admire the quality in another man. For the 
 nonce he forgot the rivalry and struggle between Bodine 
 and himself and saw only the man's capacity. 
 
 "Bodine," he drawled, "you sure would do to take 
 along if you were straight." 
 
 But Bodine was too exalted by his vision to permit 
 himself to descend to crass personalities. 
 
 "Get in on it, Tarrant !" he said tensely. "Let bygones 
 be bygones. This fire puts us on the map in red letters." 
 
 "What kind of a man are you?" responded Tarrant 
 slowly. "After everything " 
 
 "What's all that got to do with business?" snapped 
 Bodine. "It is a good business for the Syndicate to have 
 you in it. It is good business for you to be in the Syn- 
 dicate. You are a business man. Don't complicate a plain 
 business proposition with with other considerations." 
 
 At the last words the two turned as if by instinct to-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 177 
 
 ward Marjorie. She was gone. Tarrant ran down the 
 street. By the light of a burning building he saw her 
 helping Wayne place Mrs. Wayne in a service car, and 
 he heaved a sigh of relief when the car, bearing the two 
 and Marjorie rolled away from the burning hamlet and 
 Bodine. 
 
 Bodine had had his answer. He wasted no more 
 time on Tarrant. To do him justice he wasted no more 
 thought upon him, nor upon himself, nor any considera- 
 tion that was not directly connected with the exploitation 
 of the present opportunity. 
 
 A pair of men with a wet tarpaulin were guarding the 
 box car which served as the railroad station. When a 
 blot of burning oil fell upon the roof they sprang up a 
 ladder and smothered the flames with the tarpaulin. When 
 flying embers alighted against the walls they slid down 
 from their perch and performed again. Meanwhile they 
 commented upon the destruction. 
 
 "There goes the church." 
 
 "Let 'er go." 
 
 "Lafe's garage is a cinder/' 
 
 "Serves him right." 
 
 "Pool parlor's done for." 
 
 "Gosh ! Hope they got the liquor out.' 1 
 
 "Chili Joe's is done for." 
 
 "It is? Where we going to get breakfast to-morrow 
 morning?" 
 
 There were charred holes in the roof and walls of the 
 box car and cinders were sifting in when Bodine arrived, 
 but the telephone and the telegraph were intact and the 
 operator was present, and Bodine went to work without 
 the delay of a moment or the loss of any waste motion.
 
 178 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 The day before Tin Spout had been only an insignificant 
 hamlet in the midst of a rather poor little oil field. So 
 far as the great public was concerned it did not exist at 
 all. But next morning it existed. It had been created 
 overnight. The people of the land now knew about it. 
 They knew it was a rich oil town. They knew it was the 
 centre of a rich oil field. They knew all this because the 
 type in the morning papers told them so, and the people 
 believed that newspaper publication creates a fact. 
 
 MILLION DOLLAR OIL WELL BURNS AT TIN SPOUT, 
 TEXAS 
 
 SKIES AFLAME AS OIL WELL BURNS. TIN SPOUT, 
 TEXAS, TREATED TO RARE SPECTACLE 
 
 OCEAN OF FLAMING OIL FLOWS IN STREETS OF 
 TIN SPOUT, TEXAS 
 
 The heads under which the story appeared in the reg- 
 ular press next morning were too numerous and varied 
 to be represented by a selection. It was legitimate news. 
 In the less regular press, in the oil papers and in those 
 in a particular receptive mood toward the type of adver- 
 tisements which, by some coincidence, the Pan-National 
 Syndicate generously ordered by wire or phone that same 
 night, the headlines were inclined to be slightly more 
 specific: 
 
 PAN-NATIONAL SYNDICATE OIL PROPERTIES OVERFLOW 
 IN TIN SPOUT MIRACLE FIELD 
 
 INCOMPARABLE BONANZA OF PAN-NATIONAL OIL LEASES 
 REVEALED BY SPECTACULAR OIL FIRE 
 
 There were tangles of charred timbers and piles of 
 ashes smoldering beneath the Texas sun next morning;
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 179 
 
 but in the mind of the American public that morning was 
 a different picture, a picture which created a mental condi- 
 tion whereby the three words, "Tin Spout, Texas," in- 
 stantly suggested, "Riches in Oil." 
 
 In strict accuracy there was more than a condition of 
 material destruction at Tin Spout next morning. The 
 spirit of the American was flaming there as brightly as 
 in more favored settings. Men had taken the fire in va- 
 rious ways when it struck, but there had been no impotent 
 wailing against fate, no sunken head was bowed in de- 
 feated hands, no fists futilely shaken at heaven on high. 
 
 The garage was an early victim of the exploding gaso- 
 line tank, but fortunately one of the cars was outside 
 beyond reach of the flames, and even while the walls of 
 his shop were falling in the proprietor was occupied in 
 assuring himself that the saved car had a full supply of 
 fuel. His foresight was based upon an appreciation of 
 his fellow townsmen's spirit. Chili Joe lost a hotel and 
 eating house, and while the walls were falling in Joe was 
 bargaining with the owner of a truck for a flying trip 
 after a tent and cots and supplies. 
 
 "I was figuring on enlarging, anyway," said the owner 
 of the grocery store as he watched it go up in flames. 
 "Lafe, save me a seat in your car, because I want to go 
 get me a new stock." 
 
 "Let's go!" said Lafe. 
 
 While the buildings were still burning brightly his car 
 bore a load of ruined men to the nearest point where food 
 and building material and other emergency supplies could 
 be secured. When daylight appeared and revealed the 
 trucks arriving, laden with carpenters and lumber and
 
 180 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 supplies, sleepless citizens were waiting impatiently for 
 the ashes to cool so they could begin to rebuild, and Chili 
 Joe had an oil stove burning in the oven and was dispens- 
 ing coffee and sandwiches at one dollar the order.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 TiTARJORIE'S dramatic outburst in Tarrant's defence 
 *- v * had come without premeditation or intent. It was 
 one of those spontaneous assertions of instinct which, hav- 
 ing occurred, leave one startled and amazed; and this was 
 the mood in which she found herself while driving away 
 from the holocaust of Tin Spout. The fire seemed to her 
 the inevitable product of the atmosphere of rivalry, of 
 greed and ruthlessness which prevailed about her. As the 
 fulminations of an electrically charged thunder-sky result 
 in the explosion of lightning and the crash of thunder so 
 the conflict of emotions which seethed about her seemed 
 logical to produce a climax like the fire. Her tortured emo- 
 tions the virginal emotions of girlhood cruelly subjected 
 to violent impressions had wrought her up to a pitch 
 in which her constant sensation was that something must 
 burst. By day she watched apprehensively for warning 
 of the cataclysm, studying her father and Bodine, and 
 listening eagerly to their most casual words. At night she 
 tossed sleeplessly, oppressed by the sense of an unseen 
 menace. The heat at Tin Spout now was approaching 
 its summer vehemence. The shoddily built frame hotel 
 was like an oven, and the heat at night in the small room 
 rendered even a light nightgown oppressive. The babble 
 about the place and in the street outside never ceased be- 
 fore early morning, and Marjorie closing door and win- 
 dow and turning out the light in an effort to achieve rest, 
 would lie stretched out upon her bed, a tense, slender fig- 
 ure with wide-awake eyes. 
 
 181
 
 1 82 Tar rant of Tin Spout 
 
 The outbreak of the fire at Tarrant's well had come as 
 the solution of a problem. In a flash she understood : this 
 was how the Syndicate planned to clear the field! She 
 had cowered in her darkened room until the swiftly 
 spreading fire had reached the hotel. Then had come the 
 necessity of rescuing the half-crazed Mrs. Wayne, and 
 after that came her spontaneous declaration upon the 
 stairs. 
 
 Now the great moment was over. She sank back in 
 the service car that bore her and the Wayne's toward 
 Ranger Falls in a dazed and wondering frame of mind. 
 Automatically she petted and assured the hysterical 
 woman at her side, but her consciousness was far afield. 
 What had she done ? Why had she done it ? What would 
 be the consequence ? 
 
 Her memory flashed back to the burning hotel and she 
 lived the moment over again. She was again upon the 
 stairway, the flaming derrick at her back. And for the 
 moment she was quite unconscious of her lack of apparel 
 but for the moment only. Now Bodine's eyes were 
 upon her. The red flames reflecting upon them ; his eyes 
 were red, red and burning and hungry. They stripped 
 her. They seemed to devour her nude body. She threw 
 herself back convulsively in the seat. 
 
 "Oh, my God!" she murmured. 
 
 "Don't weaken, kid," adjured the driver with gruff 
 sympathy. "I'll have you with your father in no time. 
 Then you'll be O. K." 
 
 "Yes," said Marjorie, and she controlled an impulse to 
 laugh wildly. 
 
 Dr. Dickinson had remained in Ranger Falls that night 
 in order not to miss any time from the Oil Exchange, and
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 183 
 
 by the time Marjorie and the Waynes arrived he had re- 
 ceived over the telephone the story of the fateful evening 
 at Tin Spout, including Marjorie's outburst in Tarrant's 
 defence. As a consequence his gratitude at beholding her 
 safe and unharmed was qualified with a degree of nervous 
 reproach. 
 
 "I don't understand you, Marjorie," he protested. "I 
 try to do my best for you and you seem inclined to run 
 contrary to my interests your own interests, I mean. 
 After that ruffian's offensive conduct toward you I should 
 think you would be the last person in the world to defend 
 him. He is a trouble maker ; he's always making trouble. 
 He is responsible for that fire " 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 "He is !" he affirmed. "If he hadn't been the ruffianly 
 troublemaker that he is there would have been no fire. 
 I thought I could trust you or I would never have taken 
 you into my confidence, Marjorie, I'm terribly disap- 
 pointed in you." He turned upon her doggedly, "Why 
 did you defend this ruffian ? What will Mr. Bodine think? 
 Great Heavens, Marjorie! Bodine is about to make Tin 
 Spout a boom town and my fortune our fortune is 
 made, if he favours me. In a few weeks that brute Tar- 
 rant will be gone and forgotten and Mr. Bodine will be 
 the biggest man here. Think of the man's brilliance, to 
 convert this catastrophe into a blessing! Think of the 
 boon he confers on Tin Spout ! There's nobody like him, 
 Marjorie, nobody like Bodine. You will see that clearly 
 
 in time." 
 
 i 
 
 "I don't want to go back there," burst forth Marjorie 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 "To Tin Spout?" Dr. Dickinson debated a moment,
 
 184 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 then nodded agreeably. "Quite right, Marjorie. It won't 
 be the sort of a place I'd like my little girl to be in just 
 at present. We will stay here until Mr. Bodine comes 
 with word that the field is clear." 
 
 Marjorie was grateful that he did not insist upon a 
 reply to his question of why she had cried out in Tar- 
 rant's defence, as she would have been at loss to answer. 
 Why had she done it? She was incessantly asking herself 
 the question now that she could consider her action in 
 retrospect. The deed had been wrung from her; her 
 words were as spontaneous as any cry of instinct. Did 
 she really care so much for fair play that she was hurt 
 at the thought of Tarrant's enterprise being crushed by 
 the Syndicate? Nonsense! She did not give two pins 
 for any business, or business methods. She didn't care 
 for anything, she thought. Life was too brutal. Before 
 her eyes rose a picture of the holocaust, and from the 
 billowing flames Bodine's eyes shone upon her with the 
 look in them that made her shrink and feel helpless and 
 afraid. The spirit which had emboldened her for a mo- 
 ment on the burning stairs was gone. She felt that she 
 was groping in a world of darkness, and she felt hands 
 reaching out toward her; but none of them offered Love.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A | A HE Tin Spout boom truly began with the arrival of 
 * the first newspapers, for only then, as they noted 
 the black headlines and perused the descriptions of the 
 fire did the citizens truly envisage the potential position 
 of the town they were about to rebuild. As a consequence 
 the building plans which they had formulated so swiftly 
 were promptly discarded or enlarged upon. The boom 
 was in swing within the hour after the newspapers were 
 in hand, its primary manifestation being represented by 
 the activity of real-estate speculators seeking to corner 
 building lots on Main Street. But there were few sellers 
 now, even though the lots were heaped with smoking 
 timbers and ashes. Men might be ruined, they might be 
 ragged and hungry, but they refused rich offers for their 
 lots with scorn. 
 
 The Tin Spout that rose from the scarcely cooled ashes 
 was an effort to approximate the position which had been 
 created for it. A new wonder town of oildom, an oil 
 metropolis in a miracle field, could scarcely live up to its 
 role if it contented itself with a few hastily built shacks. 
 A concrete block-moulding machine was on the way to 
 the site of the hotel before the ruins had been removed, 
 and a hostelry adequate to the demands of the new day, 
 and being constructed of concrete blocks it called itself 
 fireproof, rose as an example for builders to follow. 
 Above the box-car station rose a vast sign of muslin bear- 
 ing the words : 
 
 185
 
 186 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 ROME WAS NOT BUILT IN A DAY TIN SPOUT WAS ! 
 
 Having thus administered its rebuke to older and slower 
 civilisations, Tin Spout was ready for business. 
 
 Business arrived in vehicles of all kinds in addition to 
 the trains. Many of the arrivals were from near-by fields, 
 but in the rush which now developed there were few 
 states and no large cities which were not represented. 
 Similarly there were few classes or divisions of our popu- 
 lation which failed of representation. Eastern financiers 
 rode in on the same train as Western gamblers, and West- 
 ern capitalists with Eastern thugs. Those modern Ameri- 
 can pioneers, Nick Sainopopulus, restaurant keeper, and A. 
 Nathan, gents' clothing, were soon among those present. 
 A Salvation Army trio held successful meetings every 
 night, and Arkansaw, the gambler, came up from Ranger 
 Falls and opened a "room." He, also, met with success. 
 
 A young genius erected a wire corral, filled it with 
 army tents and cots, and put up a sign : "Hotel." In its 
 time this hotel housed, if the term is permissible, writers 
 seeking material, roughnecks seeking employment and 
 promoters seeking graft. Capitalists with millions at 
 their call and sneak thieves at their work slept on those 
 cots. It was not a safe place. Experienced men placed 
 their money and valuables out of sight and reach upon 
 retiring and slept on their shoes if they were so finicky 
 as to remove them. Less experienced men were apt to 
 wake in the morning to cry out to a contemptuous audi- 
 ence that they had been robbed. 
 
 A hundred service cars took up their stand at Tin Spout, 
 and 50 per cent of their drivers were bootleggers; and 
 a dozen ' 'high- j ackers" lived off them, holding them up
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 187 
 
 on lone roads and robbing the drivers and passengers. 
 And everybody seemed to have money and to be on the 
 way to making more. Failure was unknown. Naturally 
 many failures must have occurred, but they were not 
 known. The smothering Texas summer air was sur- 
 charged to the drugging point with the potent intoxicant 
 "Boom." The mood of optimism mounted to the verge 
 of insanity. Men were drunk upon it. There was no 
 other mood to be found. 
 
 "She's another boom town," said Elmer, "and boom 
 towns are hell and corruption naturally, but, by heaven, 
 they are alive!" 
 
 Tarrant's bewilderment at Marjorie's outburst in his 
 defence was too complete for him to attempt to realise 
 the significance of her act. The scene had burned itself 
 into his mind to remain for life a vivid memory. It was 
 like a dream to him, at times, terrible in its drama and 
 beauty. He saw her again and again as a spirit which 
 rose above the sordidness of the oil town, and was un- 
 touched by its madness or its destruction. He could ap- 
 preciate her thus. It was when he came down to earth 
 and attempted to comprehend her action and words that 
 he was all at sea. Yet he was too hard-headed not to 
 appreciate that these were of greatest importance to him 
 in his present situation. Bodine had obviously been 
 alarmed when the girl cried out: 
 
 "Shall I tell what I know?" 
 
 What did she know? What secret did she possess 
 that made Bodine spring so suddenly to the fore and take 
 action to prevent her from saying more? Was she on 
 such close terms that the promoter had taken her into his
 
 i88 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 confidence to the extent of confiding to her dangerous 
 secrets? If so, why should she come to the defence of 
 him, Bodine's rival and competitor? Tarrant gave it up. 
 The call of his duties was too insistent to permit him to 
 waste any time or thought upon his personal affairs, how- 
 ever vital they might be to himself. 
 
 Bodine's promptness in envisioning and seizing opportu- 
 nity in the midst of the fire and turmoil of that terrible 
 night had opened Tarrant's eyes to the calibre of the man 
 he was fighting. Unless he was to be swallowed up in the 
 tidal wave of the boom which the Syndicate was engineer- 
 ing and controlling he must key himself up to greater 
 endeavors. By all means he must keep his producing wells 
 in operation. The monthly checks from the pipe-line 
 company now had become the lifeblood of his enterprise. 
 
 Normally he had been able to attract sufficient local 
 capital to further his developments. Now the Syndicate 
 was absorbing all such capital. For so long as the boom 
 lasted Bodine and his associates would largely control the 
 money market. Tarrant knew he would be an outsider. 
 By maintaining the settled production of his well he would 
 be able to continue drilling the wildcat. If he struck oil 
 in the deep sand which his faith told him lay somewhere 
 in the earth, all might be well. If he brought in a duster 
 but Tarrant was of too sanguine a disposition to admit 
 that any disaster could spell complete defeat. 
 
 Taking his clew from the night raids on his properties, 
 he at once added more men to his pay roll whose appear- 
 ance caused the knowing ones of the oil field no little 
 perturbation. Some of them came from near-by fields, 
 some from far away; some had worn officer's stars and 
 some had been pursued by officers. There were plenty
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 189 
 
 of them to be found, men who would rather fight than 
 work, and who sold themselves and their loyalty as a 
 matter of course. Had circumstances placed them upon 
 the Syndicate pay roll they would have opposed Tarrant 
 with the same unreasoning grimness with which they now 
 guarded his properties. They guarded the storage tanks, 
 the pumping station, the jacks and the new test well. 
 On their time off they went into Tin Spout and added 
 their bit to the note of tension and disorder which day 
 by day was rising there, and in the camp where they were 
 quartered they fought among themselves as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 Tarrant had thrown himself into the fight so com- 
 pletely that he had few thoughts for anything else. The 
 very viciousness of the situation absorbed him as it did 
 everyone else who came in contact with it. He saw him- 
 self, his men, the opposition and every man in the field 
 caught in a maelstrom of madness brewed by the wealth 
 inherent in the evil-smelling liquid gold. After would 
 come peace and sanity, but while the whirlpool was raging 
 men succumbed to the greed and the fighting qualities 
 which the opportunity for sudden wealth invariably brings 
 forth. 
 
 He seldom trusted himself to think of Marjorie. The 
 vision of her on the stairs the mad night of the fire had 
 enshrined her in his memory. He had placed her upon a 
 pedestal. He felt the struggle into which he had plunged 
 himself had sullied him to an extent that made vain his 
 old hopes toward her. The mad moment in which he 
 had clasped her to his breast and the scene at the Country 
 Club were the pictures that rose in his mind when he 
 thought of her. The pictures burned. So she must see
 
 190 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 him how otherwise? Brutal, ruthless, quarrelsome. 
 Youthlike he reveled in his self-condemnation. The fact 
 that she had defended him in the face of the mob lost the 
 significance that it might have had. The oil game was 
 mastering him, and he did his best to forget the hopes 
 and aspirations which she had awakened. He did not see 
 her again for some time. 
 
 It was Wayne who was responsible for their next meet- 
 ing. He came to Tarrant's shack one night long after 
 midnight and knocked at the door. Tarrant arose and 
 turned on the light, and after one look at his visitor's face 
 invited him in. Wayne was sober. His face was white 
 and drawn and his body seemed shrunken, but his eyes 
 were calm and clear of blood, and his manner was quiet, 
 even subdued. He sat on the edge of a chair and looked 
 at the floor. 
 
 "Spence, can you lend me five hundred dollars?" he 
 began. "I've got to send my wife north for the hot 
 weather. She had a sort of breakdown after the fire, and 
 it would be too tough to ask her to stay here in the sum- 
 mer. Her folks live up in Michigan. If I can get her 
 up there," he concluded, "she'll be all right she'll be all 
 right." 
 
 Tarrant was too astonished to speak for some time. 
 "You know it, boy," he said finally. "You can have any- 
 thing I have got if you need it." 
 
 "I know it, Spence," responded Wayne in his subdued 
 monotone. "I knew you would help a fellow in spite of 
 of things; and that's why I came to you." 
 
 Again there was a silence. 
 
 "I suppose you are wondering how come I need to bor-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 191 
 
 row five hundred dollars, aren't you, Spence?" said 
 Wayne. 
 
 "We all get short at times," replied Tarrant evasively. 
 "I've been down to where I had to make a touch for a ten 
 spot." 
 
 Wayne wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. 
 
 "I'm flat," he said hopelessly. "I'm cleaned out of every 
 dollar I had, and I have borrowed ten thousand from the 
 bank that I can't repay. I wasn't satisfied to wait. The 
 game got me. Bodine said Pan-National was sure to 
 jump after the fire. I put up every dollar I could scrape 
 together on margins trying to run a corner. Somebody 
 dumped a block of shares on the market and the stock 
 dropped until I was wiped out. Wiped out clean. It was 
 my fault. I must have been crazy. The damn oil turned 
 my head. It got me. It gets everybody that touches it. 
 
 "It has got Dickinson. He has put every cent of his 
 money into oil shares and they are boarding at the Deaf 
 Hemps because it's cheap, so Dickinson can have more 
 money to play the Exchange. I want to get my wife out 
 of it as soon as I can on the morning train. Can you 
 let me have that to-night, Spence? Arkansaw will cash 
 your check." 
 
 He took the check which Tarrant wrote, and shook 
 hands. His fingers clung nervously in the grip as if re- 
 luctant to let go, and it was apparent that he was striving 
 to express himself; but the words would not come, and 
 with a final grip of the hand he turned and went out into 
 the night. 
 
 The remainder of Wayne's story came to Tarrant from 
 the lips of Arkansaw, the gambler, who sought him out 
 at daybreak two mornings later:
 
 192 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "He came to me with your check and asked if I would 
 cash it so he could send his wife north on the morning 
 train," said the gambler, "and I see he was cold sober and 
 I said, sure, if he was promising that was what he was 
 going to use it for. He looked right smart, best I've seen 
 him looking all spring. He shook hands and says, 'Ar- 
 kansaw, you're a good fellow,' and I thought that was 
 right odd at the time but I done forgot it. Sure 'nough 
 he did send his wife north next morning, and they tell me 
 they looked right happy, both of them. 
 
 "Soon as he see the train was heading for the Red River 
 what does he do but go and hang up his diamond pin for 
 a hundred dollars. And he hits for the Country Club. 
 He cuts loose considerable, but they tell me his liquor 
 don't touch him. Last night about one o'clock a news- 
 paper man out there asks him if he knows any news and 
 Wayne says he sure does and they'll hear about the gusher 
 he's going to bring in before the morning. The last any- 
 one sees him alive he's walking out to get the air, he says, 
 and pretty soon they hear the shot and when they get to 
 him Wayne has cashed in."
 
 the many varied types that had come to Tin 
 Spout with the rush that followed upon the fire, none 
 arrived with a stranger history or for a more fantastic 
 purpose than the old couple known as the Deaf Hemps. 
 Perhaps among the many stories of unhappiness which 
 the boom gave birth to more could be found with deeper 
 pathos than theirs. 
 
 The Deaf Hemps were man and wife, both in the sixties. 
 The nickname which they bore was deceptive. Neither 
 suffered from the slightest difficulty in hearing. In the 
 long, barren years when the two were making a complete 
 failure of farming and stock raising on their ranch out- 
 side of Ranger Falls, their debts had accumulated until 
 they owed something to practically everyone in that 
 region. Creditors shouted at them as they drove along 
 the road. Creditors besieged them at the ranch and upon 
 their rare visits to town. Then it was that the Hemps 
 simultaneously developed deafness to an extent which 
 caused the creditors' objurgations to go unheeded. Year 
 after year the Hemps starved on their hopeless acres, their 
 lives slowly withering away toward a painful end and 
 then the oilmen came. 
 
 Now it was no case of deafness that made the old 
 Hemps pathetic. Their trouble was that they were mil- 
 lionaires. 
 
 The barren ranch land upon which cattle had starved 
 and crops withered away had hidden one of the richest 
 
 193
 
 194 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 pools in the Ranger Falls field. A forest of derricks 
 sprouted upon it. Gushers were brought in that yielded 
 a small fortune each week, and one-eighth of the golden 
 flood went to the owners of the land. Without stirring 
 a ringer beyond signing leases and receipts for bonus 
 money the old couple had come into an income of a 
 quarter million a year, and as a consequence they were 
 woefully, pitifully unhappy. 
 
 The flood of wealth had come too late. Their day for 
 appreciating what money may bring was past. They 
 could not even enjoy the leisure which had been thrust 
 upon them. Moving into Ranger Falls they had sat with 
 idle, gnarled hands, knowing not what to do. The Tin 
 Spout boom and the consequent demand for rooms and 
 meals had been a greater godsend to them than their 
 wealth. The Hemps rented a house at Tin Spout and took 
 in boarders. 
 
 "Folks say we're foolish for doing this," said Mrs. 
 Hemp, "but I dunno; as I say to pa, you never can tell 
 what's going to happen and I certainly do believe in put- 
 ting something by for a rainy day while you got the 
 chance." 
 
 Marjorie and her father were boarding at the Hemps', 
 and it was there Tarrant went to see her. The recent 
 tragedy seemed to have given him a clearer vision of the 
 terrible power of the game he was playing. In a few 
 short weeks he had seen it alter Wayne from a young, 
 cheerful operator, with life and optimism running fresh 
 in his veins, to a hopeless -wreck who saw only one way 
 out of the morass into which the game had plunged him. 
 He had seen his own friends become his enemies. Dickin- 
 son he had seen maddened by the lure of wealth which
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 195 
 
 Bodine dangled before his eyes. And the game was 
 growing wilder, more intense, more fatal. 
 
 He had chosen his time well and came upon Marjorie 
 as she sat reading in the Hemps' parlor. There was no 
 greeting between them. She saw he had come with a 
 definite purpose and looked up waiting for him to ex- 
 plain. As he looked at her he was glad he had come, and 
 the purport of his errand broke from him in a steady 
 torrent of words. 
 
 "You will say I am presumptuous, Miss Dickinson," 
 said he. "That doesn't matter. You should not remain 
 in Tin Spout. It is no place for you. Go home. You 
 don't belong here. It's going to get wild and rough. 
 You don't know what an oil town can be. There's some- 
 thing in an oil boom that makes men mad. I suppose it's 
 the gold that is in it. Men scramble for that gold; they 
 fight and steal, and go after it regardless. A few get it 
 it's always that way and the rest of the crowd hangs 
 round them like a flock of hungry wolves round a bunch 
 of fat cattle. Men and women. They can't make money, 
 so they come to take it away from those who can. 
 
 "They are not smooth or gentle parasites, either. Look 
 at the faces of the men who come pouring into town on 
 every train. Yes, and the women, too. Do you find 
 over half of them decent or civilised? The other half is 
 here on the loot. They're not bred right to do anything 
 but what they do. They are here to get their share of 
 the gold that is in the oil, and they don't care how they go 
 about it. They will set the tone of the town for the short 
 time that the boom fever is on. They will affect everyone 
 in the place. It is always so in a new oil field. The real 
 fellows grow rougher, reckless, tough. The wild spirit
 
 196 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 in the air gets away with them. There will be a perfect 
 devil's standard here from now on, and you you are too 
 fine to be near it." 
 
 "I don't understand," she said. "Won't you explain 
 more definitely?" 
 
 Tarrant hesitated. 
 
 "Well," he said finally, "you saw the Country Qub that 
 Saturday night." 
 
 A flush -which she fought to control flushed her cheeks, 
 but looking steadily at him she said: "Yes?" 
 
 "The Country Club on Saturday night is a sample of 
 the conditions that will determine the standard of Tin 
 Spout during the time it is having its spell of boom fever," 
 he went on. "There is one Country Club in business now ; 
 in a month there will be half a dozen of them right in this 
 field. There is law and order here now, but when the 
 boom fever is on all that will all disappear. It gets them 
 all. 
 
 "The county attorney and the newest deputy sheriff 
 will be affected the same. A robbery looks bad now ; but 
 they won't think anything of it then. There will be all 
 sorts of scrapes. The stakes will be so big men won't 
 care how the game is played. Murder will be an incident. 
 I mean that literally. It won't last long ; and when it is 
 over the toughs will go on their way and the regular fel- 
 lows will come back to their senses again. But while it 
 lasts it will be plumb hell, Miss Dickinson, and you have 
 no business in it." 
 
 She heard him through patiently, as if she knew that 
 what he said was true, and that the knowledge did not 
 alter an irrevocable situation.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 197 
 
 "You talk as if I were entirely helpless," she said at 
 length. 
 
 "I didn't mean to," he replied. "I merely want to give 
 you good advice." 
 
 "Well you have done so." 
 
 "And I want to see you take it.'* 
 
 "Oh! That's quite a different matter, isn't it?" she 
 said. 
 
 "Yes ; that is entirely up to you," he agreed. "I can't 
 make you take the advice. I wish I could I wish I had 
 the right." 
 
 He broke off as he noted the blood mounting to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Take it that we aren't even friends," he said. "Con- 
 sider me as anything you please; nevertheless you must 
 admit that I know just what this field will be when the 
 boom is going good. You believe that, don't you ? Then 
 accept my word that it will be no place for you." 
 
 "On the contrary," she said, with a sudden display of 
 excitement, "I believe it will be the very place for me." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "There will be fortunes made and lost here," she said. 
 "Perhaps my fortune will be made or lost. All all I 
 have is involved in this oil game. Do you imagine I 
 came down to this desolate spot for pleasure? What do 
 you suppose sent me here ? Made it possible for me to be 
 to be exposed to to " 
 
 "Don't say it !" groaned Tarrant. "Don't I know what 
 a hound I was?" 
 
 She paused, looking down at the ground, her breath 
 coming and going quickly. Presently she lifted her face 
 and looked directly in his eyes.
 
 198 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "It was because my father had been caught by the 
 game," she said. "Nothing else! He has played des- 
 perately. I know it, I know exactly how things stand. 
 And I know how I can save him and myself from com- 
 plete ruin. But there is a chance a fair chance 
 that " 
 
 "What do you mean ?" he gasped. 
 
 "What do you fancy I mean?" she demanded. 
 
 Tarrant looked at her a long time. Her youthful beauty 
 to him seemed like a rare flower, a bloom which he would 
 have cheerfully given his life to protect, to guard and 
 cherish. The desire to clasp her virginal form in his arms, 
 to hold her tight and never let her go, welled up in him. 
 But he had yielded to that impulse once, yielded wildly, 
 unreasonably; and because she was what she was he felt 
 that mad moment had forever destroyed his right to utter 
 the words of love that rose to his lips. And yet he did 
 utter them, for the urge within him was too strong to 
 control, and the words came rolling out hoarsely. 
 
 "I don't care what you mean," he said. "I love you, 
 I will always love you. Can't you " 
 
 "Mr. Tarrant!" her body was trembling, but her eyes 
 were firm. They caught his eyes, held them, accusing him 
 with her memory of his past action. 
 
 "All right," he said. "Forgive me. Forget I spoke." 
 
 "What did you think I meant?" she insisted. 
 
 "Nothing," said Tarrant. 
 
 In truth her meaning was obvious. If the Syndicate's 
 plans were fulfilled the boom would make Bodine a multi- 
 millionaire, and she would marry Bodine. 
 
 "Nothing," he replied and turned away.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 199 
 
 So it happened that he did not see the look in her eyes 
 as she watched him go. 
 
 Meanwhile Tarrant's wildcat test well had become the 
 talk of the field. The Syndicate had effectually stopped 
 production for business reasons. Human nature being 
 so constituted that man will fly to invest in a gilded prom- 
 ise where he will scorn a small but sure thing, it behooved 
 Bodine and his associates, during their stock-selling cam- 
 paign, to see that no wells were completed in or about the 
 spot now magically known as Tin Spout. The old shallow 
 production of Tin Spout was well known. Its possibilities' 
 had been demonstrated. Investment in the small, proved 
 wells that had made the field offered a comparatively cer- 
 tain but low return. Wherefore drilling wells was be- 
 neath the syndicate's contempt. 
 
 The Syndicate was marketing a golden promise. Its 
 sales agents, scattered over the country, were interesting 
 bankers, shop girls, milliners and farmers in what the 
 Tin Spout field might do, not what it had done. If news 
 went forth that a small well or a dry hole had been com- 
 pleted the sheen of the golden lure would be dimmed. 
 More fatal, however, to the machinations of the Syndicate 
 would be the discovery of a true oil field outside its hold- 
 ings. The public interest and the flow of checks would 
 switch to the new field. 
 
 Tarrant's refused to heed the appeal of his stockholders 
 and turn the property over to the Syndicate had further 
 heightened the interest in the well. The holders of stock 
 had begun to suspect something. Why should Tarrant 
 want to keep the wildcat as an independent property? 
 Why did he keep on drilling ? 
 
 The well soon became known as the Mystery Well, and
 
 200 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 the inevitable crop of rumours began to breed, spread and 
 multiply. Stockholders who sought to investigate these 
 rumours on the ground were accorded the same summary 
 treatment as suspected spies of the Syndicate. Tarrant 
 had chosen the shotgun guards of the well for their hard- 
 ness and had given them carte blanche. 
 
 "Get to blazes out of here and you won't get hurt." 
 
 This, with occasionally a prod from a gun, was the 
 reception accorded one and all at the wildcat lease. An 
 innocent rancher, losing his way in the dark, had the 
 tires shot off his flivver before he had time to explain. 
 Inevitably the rumours increased. Tarrant had got a 
 showing of oil sand. He had shut off one pay sand. It 
 was a better sand than any in the Tin Spout field. He 
 had shut it off and continued drilling because he had a 
 showing of something big. As days passed the rumours 
 became more definite. Someone claimed to have seen the 
 log. The formation was identical with Ranger Falls Dis- 
 covery No. i well, the great gusher that had made millions 
 and opened up that great field. 
 
 None of these rumours had the slightest basis, for no 
 one outside of Tarrant and Buck and Elmer had seen the 
 log of the well, and none of these had spoken its secrets. 
 But the effect was the same. 
 
 "Tarrant has got something," was the verdict. "He is 
 playing fox." 
 
 On the oil exchange there was a rush to buy Tarrant 
 Wildcat No. 5. The offers ran up to five times the orig- 
 inal cost of the stock; and there was not a share offered 
 for sale. 
 
 And the price of oil continued to rise. High-gravity 
 crude of the test produced in the Tin Spout field went to
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 201 
 
 two dollars and a quarter. On the day that Buck, glanc- 
 ing at the contents of the bailer as he poured it in the slush 
 pool, swiftly called out that the drilling was over, oil was 
 two dollars and a half a barrel. 
 
 Tarrant reached the well late in the afternoon, and at 
 the sight of the tools hanging suspended above the casing 
 he knew at once that the answer to his quest of faith was 
 at hand. 
 
 "What say, Buck?" he asked casually. 
 
 Buck nodded. 
 
 "You said to shut down and send for you if " 
 
 "Yes," said Tarrant. He looked round. "How about 
 the men?" 
 
 "I sent them to the cook shack the minute I saw what 
 it was," said Buck. 
 
 "That's right. How deep are you?" 
 
 "Eighteen ninety-three," was the reply. 
 
 "I figured we would hit it this side of two thousand 
 if at all," said Tarrant. "You ran the bailer?" 
 
 "Only once. I stopped as soon as I saw a sign." Buck 
 pointed to the slush pool. "There's the sign." 
 
 Tarrant cast a swift, expert glance at the top slush 
 which represented the latest bailing from the well and 
 nodded. 
 
 "Run her again, Buck," said he. 
 
 "I done have," was the reply. "She's hanging down 
 there in the casing waiting for you." 
 
 "Good ! None of the men have seen it ?" 
 
 "I haven't seen it myself, boss," said Buck. 
 
 "All right," said Tarrant quietly. "You join the men 
 in the shack for a little while, Buck." 
 
 When he was quite alone Tarrant drew the long tube-
 
 202 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 like bailer from the casing and carried it to the slush pool. 
 The sun was shining brightly and its slanting rays shim- 
 mered and danced upon the contents of the bailer as he 
 carefully poured it into the pool. Buck, lounging in the 
 door of the cook shack saw Tarrant bend forward and 
 concentrate upon a study of the result. After a while 
 Tarrant straightened up. The sun was full upon his face 
 and Bucks' sharp eyes saw every feature distinctly, but 
 the fact made him none the wiser. 
 
 "No, sirree," said Buck to himself, "I'll never play 
 poker with that oilman, not with my money." 
 
 Tarrant searched leisurely until he found a can of gaso- 
 line, and just as leisurely poured its contents over the 
 slush and struck a match. When the fire had destroyed 
 all that was combustible in the pool, he called : 
 
 "All right Buck ; get a cap. We are going to seal her. 
 We will lay off the men, except the shotgun artists. You 
 can lay yourself off for a few days, too." 
 
 He waited until the well was sealed. Then he started 
 for town. \
 
 Oil Exchange at Tin Spout was one of the first 
 buildings erected after the inception of the boom. 
 There was no place to sleep comfortably in Tin Spout at 
 that time; in fact, there were few places to sleep at all, 
 and there were even fewer opportunities for procuring 
 good food ; but the Oil Exchange provided ample opportu- 
 nity to speculate in oil shares, so the dearth of creature 
 comforts was overlooked. Arkansaw, the gambler, de- 
 precated the presence of the Exchange as furnishing an 
 unfair competition to his roulette, faro, stud-poker, craps, 
 and blackjack games. 
 
 "Folks is built kind of funny, so they sort of yearn 
 for crazy gambling, and the crazier the merrier," philoso- 
 phised Arkansaw. "If a man wants a nice mild little 
 speculation he'll buck the wheel, but when he's really set 
 to gamble he'll hit for the Exchange." 
 
 The Exchange was a square one-story box of a building 
 which occupied the most prominent corner in town. The 
 interior consisted of a single large room. A blackboard 
 with a raised platform running its length occupied one 
 wall. There were close to 500 oil stocks listed on this 
 board, and if occasion required the clerks would obligingly 
 write in the name of any company that had been recently 
 formed. The new companies thus hurriedly listed aver- 
 aged a round dozen each day. 
 
 The centre of the great floor of the room was covered 
 with benches upon which sat the more patient of the 
 
 203
 
 204 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 speculators. These comprised the bulk of the town's 
 population, from the solid merchants to the petty thieves 
 and bootleggers, and from the solid merchant's wife, se- 
 rious of dress and bearing, to the painted girls who fol- 
 lowed the dance halls. Stenographers, clerks and wait- 
 resses brought their lunches there and spent the noon hour 
 munching sandwiches and hoping to hear the silk-shirted 
 man on the run-way announce a bid for the particular 
 stock they had put their savings in. The majority of the 
 stocks were worthless. Most of the speculators were 
 aware of this, but they knew also that a few a very few 
 perhaps of the hundreds of different shares listed on the 
 board would bring fortunes to their possessors. 
 
 Day and night the Exchange was crowded now. Oil 
 was going up. The fever of speculation in oil shares was 
 upon the land. And here, where the speculations were 
 conceived and engineered, the fever raged highest. Tin 
 Spout worked only to procure money to speculate with. 
 To save, to put by the earnings of even a prosperous busi- 
 ness, was too slow. The day's work done, men and women 
 swarmed to the Exchange. The evening trade was brisk- 
 est of all, and the Exchange remained open so long as 
 there was a bid. 
 
 When Tarrant arrived in Tin Spout after sealing his 
 well the Oil Exchange was so crowded that a group was 
 gathered about the open door, unable to obtain entry into 
 the room and yet able to watch the board and take part in 
 the trading. Within the room there was the heat and 
 dust and perspiration of a tightly packed, restless crowd. 
 The benches were occupied to the last inch. The space 
 along the walls was jammed with red-faced, khaki-clad 
 operators. Millionaires and potential millionaires were
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 205 
 
 jostled by roughnecks, Mexicans, Indians, and paid no 
 heed to it. Wives and mothers of impeccable standing 
 unconsciously rubbed shoulders with women whose trade 
 was sin. 
 
 All divisions of humanity, of sex, of race, creed, color 
 or morals were swept away. They were inconsequential. 
 Something was going to happen. The tension presaged 
 something big. In the crowd before the blackboard the 
 faculty of reason was temporarily in abeyance. Instinct 
 was dominant, the instinct for gain. No one was con- 
 scious of the crowd about him. No one was conscious 
 of himself. Self was forgotten. God was forgotten. 
 Liquid gold was master. 
 
 Tarrant lingered a moment with the group at the door- 
 way. His face was hardened with determination. He 
 was broke. The deep test had drained him dry. He was 
 desperate and therefore ruthless. 
 
 "Bid two for Tarrant No. 5." 
 
 His voice calling out through a lull in the room was 
 like the clang of a gong. A moment of complete silence 
 fell upon the Exchange. 
 
 "Two offered for Tarrant No. 5," sang the caller on 
 the platform. "Who is bidding?" 
 
 "Bid two for Tarrant No. 5," repeated Tarrant, thrust- 
 ing himself toward the board. The caller stared. The 
 crowd stood on tiptoe to see. Some recognised the large 
 sombrero and a whisper ran tensely through the room : 
 
 "Tarrant is after his own stock!" 
 
 "Bid two," said Tarrant to the caller. "What's wrong, 
 bud; lost your voice?" 
 
 "Two for Tarrant No. 5 !" cried the caller. "Call your
 
 2o6 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 offers, folks, any offers ? Why, Mr. Tarrant, there's been 
 ten bid and no offers made." 
 
 "Bid ten," said Tarrant presently. 
 
 "Up she goes!" chanted the man. "Ten bid. Make 
 your offers." 
 
 All other trading ceased. The room gradually became 
 stilled. The fat manager of the Exchange, sensing some- 
 thing big, put a fresh cigar in the corner of his mouth 
 and with a nod of appreciation to Tarrant mounted the 
 platform and took personal charge. 
 
 "Ten bid for Tarrant No. 5," he said, leaning impres- 
 sively on the railing. "Let me have an offer." 
 
 "Who has got that stock?" he demanded crisply, walk- 
 ing up and down the platform. "Somebody has got it. 
 Offer it. Any figure. Mr. Tarrant is bidding. See if 
 you can't get together. Any offer?" 
 
 "Nothing at ten, Mr. Tarrant," he said suggestively, 
 returning to the bidder. "We've had a standing bid of 
 ten and no offers." 
 
 "Bid eleven," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Eleven bid for Tarrant No. 5," cried the manager, 
 pounding the railing. "Miss Barker, you had some of that 
 stock." 
 
 "Yeah," snapped the waitress whom he addressed, "and 
 I was fish enough to trade it for Pan-National." 
 
 "Collins," called the manager, "how about you?" 
 
 "Done let mine go, too," was the angry reply. 
 
 "Bid twelve," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Twelve bid for Tarrant No. 5," said the manager 
 slowly and impressively. "I advise those who possess 
 this stock to make an offer, and see if we can make a deal." 
 
 In the silence that followed Tarrant said impatiently:
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 207 
 
 "Bid fifteen." 
 
 "Fifteen!" 
 
 The crowd suddenly seethed with excitement. The 
 cauldron boiled over. Men looked about seeking the for- 
 tunate owners of the stock. The wife of a banker swore 
 dispassionately as she recalled how long ago she had sold 
 her Tarrant No. 5. There was no question concerning 
 the well now. Tarant had hit it! He was trying to get 
 all the stock back in his own hands before bringing in the 
 well. Men slipped out and ran up and down the street 
 frantically hunting odd shares of the stock. Barbers left 
 unshaven customers in the chair and hurried to the Ex- 
 change. 
 
 "Spence," whispered Elmer in Tarrant's ear, "Bodine 
 just came in and he's looking wicked." 
 
 "Bid twenty," said Tarrant calmly. 
 
 "Twenty bid for Tarrant No. 5," tolled the manager. 
 His assistants out of sheer hysteria repeated the call. 
 
 "Twenty bid for Tarrant No. 5 !" 
 
 "Bid twenty-five," called Bodine sharply. 
 
 "Twenty-five bid for Tarrant No. 5 !" cried the callers. 
 
 "Buy at thirty." Bodine had emphatically usurped Tar- 
 rant's position as the centre of the situation. 
 
 "Thirty-two," drawled the latter. 
 
 "Thirty-five," said Bodine. 
 
 "Forty," said Tarrant. 
 
 There was a lull. The callers were too astounded to 
 speak. All eyes, except Tarrant's, were upon Bodine. 
 
 "Forty-five!" snapped the promoter. 
 
 Tarrant turned on him hotly. 
 
 "How many shares have you got ?" he demanded. "You 
 an't get control. What are you trying to do ?"
 
 2o8 ,Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "I'll show you what I'm trying to do," retorted Bodine. 
 "Call that bid: forty-five for No. 5." 
 
 "It's no use, Bodine," said the young man. "I've got 
 the control. You've cornered the rest of it, but it won't 
 do you any good. I'll give you forty-five for what you 
 have got, but that's the limit." 
 
 "Nothing doing!" sneered Bodine. 
 
 Tarrant leaned on one leg leisurely and hooked his 
 thumbs on his belt and grinned. 
 
 "Whew! That was a close call!" he drawled. "If 
 anyone ever had told me I'd go and make a fool of myself 
 like that I'd sure been peeved. Reckon the oil fever must 
 be getting me, too, seeing as I ain't drinking any." 
 
 "You don't fool me by that talk, Tarrant, not a bit," 
 said Bodine. 
 
 Tarrant shifted from one foot to the other. 
 
 "What do you want of that fool stock, anyway?" he 
 drawled. "You can't get enough to give you control of 
 one string of casing in No. 5. Personally, Bodine, you 
 are not so popular with me. I control the well. I can 
 ruin No. 5, or I can let her lay, or I can shoot her, just 
 as I please. You better turn your stock over to me. I'll 
 take it at forty-five." 
 
 Bodine's reply was a smile of cold contempt. 
 
 "All right!'' Tarrant suddenly threw all the intensity 
 of his personality into the play of his final card. "You 
 know me, Bodine ; you know my record. Can you see me 
 bringing in a well that you would cash in on? Can you? 
 No! Not if she never pays me a cent!" 
 
 "That's quite satisfactory," said Bodine. "I will be 
 satisfied if you leave it sealed." 
 
 "Yes, but that stock is only on Well No. 5 !" cried Tar-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 209 
 
 rant. "Do you understand, Bodine ? It's a big lease and 
 there's plenty of room to drill new holes. Bodine, you're 
 stung. You've dropped your money in a hole that I am 
 going to jam all to blazes !" 
 
 He turned to go, the picture of reckless anger incarnate. 
 
 "Just a minute, Tarrant," said Bodine. "I am still 
 bidding. Bid fifty for Tarrant No. 5 !" 
 
 "For how many shares?" cried Tarrant. 
 
 "All there are," replied the promoter coolly. 
 
 "I've got all there are, Bodine." 
 
 "Are you offering?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "Bought," said Bodine. "Tarrant, you are going out 
 of this field one way or another. I don't want you round." 
 
 Tarrant saved the pleasure of a retort until the transfer 
 had been effected and the hundred thousand dollars which 
 Bodine paid him for his shares was deposited to his ac- 
 count. 
 
 "Bodine, I figured you wouldn't stand by and pass up a 
 chance to grab a lease away from me," said he. "You 
 sure are set on getting me out of this field, aren't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, and if you are wise you will leave right now," 
 retorted Bodine. "You have got a hundred thousand 
 dollars clear. If you persist in asking for a show-down 
 we will send you out of here with nothing but your bare 
 hands." 
 
 Tarrant looked at him with cold eyes and smiled. 
 
 "A hundred thousand dollars," he repeated. "Why, 
 man, that is just my stake money. Haven't I told you 
 I am after a real oil well round here?" 
 
 "And I have made plain to you our position," retorted 
 the promoter. "That is all."
 
 210 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "No it isn't, Bodine," drawled Tarrant "I forgot to 
 tell you ; when you open No. 5 up you needn't trouble to 
 run the bailer. I ran it myself just before I sealed her 
 up. There's dandy sand there. But there is nothing in 
 that sand, Bodine, not even salt water. She's dry ! Bo- 
 dine, I sure am obliged to you for the way you helped me 
 out of a mean hole."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 BODINE returned at once to his office, where Grogan 
 was waiting. The gunman was getting hard to hold. 
 Ever since the night at the Country Club when Tarrant 
 had so skilfully bluffed him the blood lust had been rising 
 within him. To his feral nature there could be but one 
 way of settlement with Tarrant. The subtleties of Bo- 
 dine's reactions were impossible to him. Like a drunkard 
 who periodically craves the insanity of his vice, Grogan 
 craved the sensation of feeling a gun in his hand, the roar 
 of a shot and the spectacle of Tarrant's figure crumpling 
 before him. 
 
 Bodine's dictation irked him. He cared nothing for 
 a policy that required even temporarily a semblance of 
 meticulous respect for the law. Without a second thought 
 on the matter he would, if alone, have cast the entire 
 future of the Pan-National Syndicate to the winds for 
 the privilege of gratifying his bloody obsession. Bodine 
 was fully aware of this. He knew that eventually Grogan 
 would break the bonds of his influence and plans. He did 
 not purpose, however, to permit such an eventuality to 
 interfere with his ambitions and he held Grogan in sternly. 
 
 Grogan was seated in a corner of the office when Bodine 
 entered and closed the door. The gunman's face was a 
 study of frustrated rage. A ring of cigarette stubs littered 
 the floor about his chair, and he was puffing a fresh one. 
 He blew the smoke in slowly through his nose and his 
 eyes stared unseeingly from between narrowed lids. He 
 
 217
 
 212 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 made no sign to indicate that he was aware of Bodine's 
 presence, but when the promoter had seated himself at his 
 desk Grogan said softly: 
 
 "Don't you interfere next time I go after him." 
 
 Bodine did not reply. He took a cigar from the box 
 on the desk, lighted it and presently rose and began to 
 pace the room. 
 
 "He's your meat," he said finally, blowing out a great 
 cloud of smoke. 
 
 "I don't need you to tell me that," responded Grogan 
 in the same dangerous tone. "He asked for it when he 
 ran that windy on me out at the Club." 
 
 "But not yet," continued Bodine after another turn of 
 the room. 
 
 Grogan' s eyelids drew together a trifle closer. 
 
 "I'm pretty tired of hearing that," he purred. "I'm 
 pretty tired of being kept off a four-flusher like Tarrant." 
 
 "Are you?" Bodine spoke with a sudden change of 
 tone that caused Grogan to look up. "Then try to down 
 him and see how you make out." 
 
 "Meaning he's a hard one?" sneered Grogan. "The 
 big bluffer doesn't go heeled, and he will yelp at the sight 
 of a gun." 
 
 "Meaning," said Bodine incisively, "that I don't in- 
 tend to let any untimely break on your part spoil my plans. 
 I don't want to have to get rid of you, Grogan, unless I 
 have to. If you go on the prod now, I will have to. That 
 is your situation. I am taking no chances. This means 
 too much to me. I want that girl of Dickinson's. I am 
 going to marry her. She doesn't know it yet, but she will 
 soon. 
 
 "I am going to break Tarrant. I am going to send him
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 213 
 
 out of here with no reputation and no money. I'm going 
 to crush him and kick him back to where he belongs a 
 roughneck with bare hands. I have got the means to do 
 both these things. After they are done you can have him. 
 But not until. Understand me, Grogan? Now go and 
 tell Dickinson to come here at once," commanded Bodine. 
 "Then go back to the Club till I send for you again." 
 
 When Marjorie's father entered the office he found Bo- 
 dine hurriedly writing a number of telegrams. Dickinson 
 waited respectfully. Presently Bodine swung round with 
 the telegrams in his hand. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Vice-President !" said he. 
 
 The effect of his words was quite what he had expected 
 it to be; to supplement them he treated his visitor to a 
 subtle wink. A gleam of avidity shone in Dickinson's 
 eyes, and an expression of craftiness came about his lips. 
 
 "I have taken the liberty of writing these telegrams be- 
 fore consulting you, Mr. Vice-President," continued Bo- 
 dine. "I hope they have your endorsement so they may 
 be forwarded at once to the newspapers." 
 
 He winked again. Dickinson's hands trembled as he 
 reached for the messages. 
 
 "First vice-president !" he stammered. A swift change 
 from pride and gratification to caution and guile swept 
 over his countenance. The pair looked at each other with 
 the crafty expression of fellow conspirators. "But, Bo- 
 dine, the other directors stockholders? Can we do 
 this?" 
 
 "Do you want to become a millionaire?" retorted Bo- 
 dine. 
 
 The potent word raised Marjorie's father to his feet 
 in excitement.
 
 214 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "A millionaire !" he repeated. 
 
 His eyes followed Bodine's every movement slavishly, 
 
 "I want to marry Marjorie," said the promoter. "You 
 know that." 
 
 "A millionaire!" repeated the other as if dazed. "Do 
 you mean it, Bodine?" 
 
 "I mean it," came the positive answer. "Did you hear 
 what I said about the girl?" 
 
 "She'll do it! I'll see that she does. Anything you 
 say," chattered Dickinson. "Yes, yes." 
 
 "I can break you, Dickinson," snapped Bodine. "Every 
 dollar you had is in Pan-National stock and some you 
 didn't have." 
 
 "I I got some loans at the bank," stammered the doc- 
 tor. "The stock is sure to go up, isn't it?" 
 
 "Dickinson," said Bodine, "the day I marry Marjorie 
 all your notes will be paid, and your stock will be secure. 
 The Syndicate is ready to make its big killing. Tarrant 
 will be through here when his option on the 88 Ranch 
 expires. We will be in complete control. Immediately 
 after that we will bring in a big well." He winked. "We 
 have 20,000 barrels of oil in storage here for that pur- 
 pose. Understand? That well will make you a million- 
 aire, Dickinson. One million ? Pooh ! There's no limit. 
 Oil is going up, up. The country is crazy about oil. I am 
 going to be one of the real big ones in this game," said 
 Bodine, grinding his teeth savagely, "and I want that girl, 
 Dickinson. I am going to have her." He struck his fist 
 on the desk with the force of a sledge. "One way or an- 
 other she is going to be mine."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 ^ I ^ARRANT experienced no sense of elation at the suc- 
 cess of his manoeuver. The money he had realised 
 thereby was only a means to an end. Reckless as the 
 drilling of the deep test had appeared it had in reality been 
 only a true part of his search for the great pool. The 
 shallow sand which he had first struck had warned him 
 that the well was too far south. When he had found the 
 deep sand and found that dry also, the secret of the Tin 
 Spout field, the reason why the big pool had not been 
 found was apparent. He at once proceeded to seek a new 
 place to drill. 
 
 It was to secure funds for this drilling that he had made 
 his coup on the Exchange. Day after day and night after 
 night he worked toward the future. The geological struc- 
 ture, the fault lines, domes and anticlines of the field were 
 on open book to him. He had been right about the exis- 
 tence of a deep sand. Now his mind followed the dip of 
 that sand deep down into the earth. Somewhere in that 
 sand there was oil. This was an article of faith with him. 
 His task now was to trace the dip of the sand and locate 
 the surface indications of an oil pool far down in the 
 earth. 
 
 Day after day he prospected, and his search led him 
 northward, bit by bit. Mile by mile he searched the for- 
 mation. He reached the Tin Spout field proper. He went 
 through it. It was a week after his sale of Well No. 5 
 that he came to the end of his quest. The structure he 
 
 215
 
 216 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 was seeking lay half a mile within the lines of the section 
 of the 88 Ranch, on which his option expired on the mor- 
 row at noon. 
 
 He was standing upon a small elevation on the barren 
 section when he arrived at his decision. It was drawing 
 toward the evening of a rainy day. To the westward 
 rumbled the thunder of a dying storm. In the south the 
 lights of Tin Spout were beginning to twinkle, tiny points 
 of cheer in a sodden, desolate scene. Tarrant looked at 
 his watch and knew he had missed the evening train for 
 Ranger Falls. There was, however, plenty of time. He 
 could drive down or take the next train early in the 
 morning. 
 
 In the dusk he failed to see the skulking figure which 
 had been watching him from a near-by knoll. The figure 
 slid out of sight as he started for his machine, and ran. 
 Tarrant heard a motor start and race away, but cars were 
 too common thereabouts for it to cause him any worry. 
 As he drove back to town he listened to the rumbling of 
 the storm in the west and decided to wait until the morning 
 train. It would land him in Ranger Falls at 8 o'clock, in 
 plenty of time. 
 
 The days and nights of strain had told upon even the 
 young steel of his constitution, and with the end of his 
 search came a sudden weariness. He flung himself fully 
 clad upon the bunk in his office, setting his alarm clock and 
 leaving word with the night pump man to awaken him in 
 time to catch the morning train, and he was sound asleep 
 before the departing engineer had closed the door. 
 
 For Marjorie the early part of the evening had been 
 similar to others since she and her father had become
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 217 
 
 domiciled at the "Deaf" Hemps. At six o'clock Mrs. 
 Hemp had called as usual : 
 
 "Is your pop home, Honey?" to be met with the usual 
 response: "Not yet, Mrs. Hemp." 
 
 "Then I reckon you'll be stepping down to the Exchange 
 to get him, won't you, Honey?" continued Mrs. Hemp. 
 "And if you see that old man of mine you might get him, 
 too." 
 
 Marjorie wearily picked up an umbrella and proceeded 
 upon her regular evening errand. Dr. Dickinson's interest 
 in the speculative business conducted at the Exchange now 
 was of such an absorbing nature that he was reluctant 
 to tear himself away from his chosen seat even for the 
 purpose of nourishment and sleep. Marjorie found their 
 positions reversed. She watched over him and cared for 
 him as one might over an irresponsible child, guarding his 
 welfare in spite of himself. Through long, hot nights 
 she had sat with him when he, haggard and glassy-eyed 
 after a disastrous day, would have resorted to the drugs 
 in his medicine case to secure the sleep which his excited 
 condition denied him. Her own interest had been caught 
 by her father's speculation in oil shares and leases. Con- 
 stantly he predicted and promised that he would strike a 
 winner. Certainly one of the many leases he dabbled in 
 must yield a gusher ; or some of his shares must begin to 
 jump. Then they would be rich and independent as they 
 had been before the doctor had been caught by the oil- 
 game. They would be free. Bodine would lose his power 
 over her father. Thus Marjorie prayed that her father's 
 wild dreams might come true. The dreams seemed to be 
 her only hope at present. Vague and improbable as they 
 were they yet represented hope to her, and in the shadows
 
 2i 8 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 beyond them always lurked the figure of Bodine, implaca- 
 bly biding his time. 
 
 She did not find her father in the Exchange this eve- 
 ning. She was directed to the office of the Syndicate. 
 Dr. Dickinson was there. So was Grogan and Bodine, 
 the latter with a look of calm triumph upon his counte- 
 nance as he buttoned a rain-coat about his bulky figure. 
 There was an air of authority, even proprietorship as he 
 greeted Marjorie, for she was young and apparently help- 
 less in the clutch of circumstances, and Bodine at that 
 moment felt himself at the crest of his power. 
 
 "You'll be here to-morrow, Marjorie?" said he, taking 
 her hand and beaming upon her. 
 
 "Why yes," she stammered. 
 
 "I am going to have something important to say to you 
 to-morrow," said Bodine, softly. "It will be a big day 
 for us all of us. Au revoir till to-morrow." 
 
 I3er father chuckled, rubbing his hands, as they watched 
 Bodine and Grogan drive away in the big car. 
 
 "What is it?" she demanded breathlessly. Hope flut- 
 tered and rose in her bosom as she studied the elation upon 
 her parent's face. "Father have you finally hit it?" 
 
 Dr. Dickinson shook his head still chuckling. 
 
 "Wait until to-morrow, Marjie," said he. "I can't tell 
 you, but No, I can't tell you." 
 
 "You can you can you must!" 
 
 She kept at him mercilessly. What if Bodine had com- 
 manded silence. Was she not his daughter, his own flesh 
 and blood? 
 
 "Now you tell me, daddy ; you tell me at once." 
 
 It was not her pleadings so much as Dr. Dickinson's 
 elation that won. The story was too big for the doctor in
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 219 
 
 his present excited condition to keep secret. It came out 
 in a triumphant chuckle. Bodine was going to Ranger 
 Falls to grab the option on the 88 Lease while Tarrant 
 slept and this move would make the Syndicate absolute 
 master of the field. 
 
 "Wait for to-morrow, Marjie," said he, shaking a 
 finger at her playfully. "It will be a big day, especially 
 for my little girl." 
 
 She made no reply and he looked at her wistfully. 
 
 "You won't spoil it, Marjie?" he stammered. 
 
 "Daddy!" she whispered. "If I should if I " 
 
 She looked up swiftly, saw fear, despair, ruin in the 
 haggard face above her. 
 
 "Daddy!" 
 
 "Ruin!" he whispered, wetting his dry lips. "That's 
 what it means. I'll be ruined. You won't Marjie 
 Marjie!" 
 
 She went to her room, sick with anguish and apprehen- 
 sion. What would to-morrow bring for her ? Bodine's 
 
 triumph; her father's triumph; and for her ? Mar- 
 
 jorie felt that she was cornered. And then, in her moment 
 of desperation, instinct whispered to her. Bodine was 
 going after the last option that Tarrant held in the field. 
 If he succeeded in getting it Tarrant would be eliminated. 
 He would have to go away. Marjorie started at the shock 
 which the thought dealt her. In the darkness of her 
 room she blushed; she grew warm and cold. Tarrant 
 they were going to ruin him. They were going to drive 
 him out. He would go away; and then she would be 
 alone, hopelessly, helplessly alone! 
 
 She sat up, her lips pressed tight, her whole being vivi- 
 fied and driven by an instinctive power against which she
 
 220 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 had no desire to struggle. Could she help him? That 
 was all that mattered. There was no question of loyalty 
 to her father. The force that drove her was too mighty 
 for that. Instinctively she responded to the call. In- 
 stinctively she ran forth into the wet night, hugging her 
 new born hope to her panting breast. 
 
 Tarrant wakened swiftly from sound slumber. Some- 
 one was shaking him, a strange voice was calling his name, 
 and there was a presence in the little office which was new 
 to him. 
 
 "Mr. Tarrant, Mr. Tarrant ! Wake up, wake up !" 
 
 He came to his feet staggering. By the light from the 
 open door he recognised Marjorie and he stared in be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 "You you!" he stammered. "What's wrong? What 
 can I do?" 
 
 "No, no, no !" she whispered. "I'm all right. It's you. 
 I heard them, Mr. Bodine and Grogan. Grogan had been 
 spying on you. They think you are after the section of 88 
 ranch." 
 
 "I am !" said Tarrant. 
 
 "Then hurry, hurry ! They are after it, too !" 
 
 Tarrant grew calmer as he heard the words. 
 
 "I will telephone Jake Stringer," he said, fumbling in 
 the dark for the telephone. "Then I will try to thank 
 you." 
 
 "No, no! Don't waste any time." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "The storm has cut us off," she said swiftly. "The 
 wires are down." 
 
 "How do you know?" he asked in surprise. 
 
 "Because I tried to telephone," she replied promptly.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 221 
 
 "To Ranger Falls?" 
 
 "To Ranger Falls, yes," she said. And then, with 
 something like a gulp, "I tried to get Mr. Stringer. Tried 
 every way. The wires are down all round Ranger Falls. 
 Telegraph and everything. The town is cut off." 
 
 "You tried" Tarrant could scarcely comprehend. 
 "You tried to get Jake Stringer?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes ! I thought you were still out in the field 
 and couldn't be found. There was no time to lose. Then 
 the pump man said you were here. You must not waste 
 any time. They are getting the big machine ready Mr. 
 Bodine and Grogan. They are going to Ranger Falls to- 
 night!" 
 
 In the moment of stress Tarrant grew perfectly calm. 
 
 "Bodine and Grogan going to Ranger Falls to-night," 
 he repeated. "That means they are going to see Jake 
 Stringer. It means they are after the lease on 88 ranch." 
 
 "Yes," she said eagerly. "What are you going to do ?" 
 
 "I can't let them do that," continued Tarrant as before. 
 "I can't let them get 88. I need it in my business." 
 
 "Then you must not let them get it." 
 
 "That's right. I must not let them get it. I won't let 
 them get it." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 "Thank you first " 
 
 "Nonsense!" 
 
 "Then I will get busy." 
 
 "Do it! Do it at once please!" she gasped. "Can 
 can I help any?" 
 
 "Any more, do you mean?" he asked. "Don't you 
 know I owe you more now "
 
 222 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Don't, please!" she cried. "You must not waste any 
 time." 
 
 "Right!" He began to move. "Will you take a note 
 for Elmer ? He's round some place." 
 
 "I will find him," she responded. "Write the note." 
 
 He switched on the light and wrote hurriedly. As she 
 took the note from his hands he said seriously : "I want to 
 shake hands with you." 
 
 "What? Why why?" 
 
 "Because I've got the chance," he said. "Shake." 
 
 She looked at the proffered hand and hesitated. Then 
 abruptly she turned and sped away in the gathering dark- 
 ness. 
 
 She found herself alone in the dark with the note for 
 Elmer clutched in her hand. Her whole being was a 
 tumult of emotions. Since the day long ago when Tar- 
 rant, in a moment of reckless abandon, had swung her up 
 to his saddle and kissed her with all the intensity of his 
 being, the presence of the young man was disturbing to 
 her. The memory of that moment rose flame clear to her 
 each time she saw him. It disturbed her. She realised 
 that for that moment the only moment in her life thus 
 far a man had completely dominated her. 
 
 She had fought Tarrant instinctively, the primitive fight 
 of the female against the rude clasp of the male, but she 
 had realised afterward that the moment had left an im- 
 pression on her otherwise than the primary impression of 
 revulsion. The memory of his steel-like arm about her 
 waist, and the rise and fall of his chest against hers as he 
 had held her ruthlessly to him, was burned in her soul. 
 It had marked the awakening to a consciousness of the 
 physical woman in her. She resented that deeply. Her
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 223 
 
 life was her own. She had asked nothing from him, and 
 desired no interference to her life program from him. 
 
 Being willing to let him alone she had asked, and ex- 
 pected, that he would let her alone. It had not worked 
 out that way. He had brutally forced his way through the 
 hedges of convention into the sanctum of her spirit and 
 ruthlessly driven her to admission of the old, eternal 
 verities. She was a woman, and he was a man. He 
 had kissed her by force and then he had spoken of love. 
 Never, never could she forget ! Never would she forgive ! 
 She stamped her feet angrily on the soggy ground. The 
 anger was directed at herself. Why had she come there 
 to-night? Why had she allowed herself to become inter- 
 ested ? 
 
 The note in her hand crackled as she clenched her fists 
 vehemently. Elmer she was to find Elmer. The calm 
 impertinence of Tarrant! To use her as his messenger! 
 Where would Elmer be Tarrant must take her for a 
 fool ! possibly the pump man would know. 
 
 "Elmer," repeated the engineer, "why, no, miss, I can't 
 say I do know where you might find that old specimen. 
 He's laying off, you know, and him being the kind of a 
 character he is, there's no telling where he spends his 
 nights. Down to Arkansaw's, most likely." 
 
 "The gambler's?" 
 
 "Sure, miss. That's Elmer's hangout. The old wreck 
 has had a run of luck lately. Beat me out of " 
 
 She waited to hear no more. That was quite in accord 
 with Tarrant's impertinence asking her to find a man 
 who frequented gambling houses. Had he not humiliated 
 her sufficiently ? She nearly sobbed as she hurried toward
 
 224 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Main Street; but she turned her steps in the direction of 
 the hotel where Arkansaw had his "room." 
 
 In the light of the hotel she halted and told herself that 
 this was too much. Then she called a boy, gave him a 
 message and seated herself resolutely in the unkempt 
 lobby. The boy departed respectfully and returned. 
 
 "He ain't there, miss," he reported. "Arkansaw says 
 to ask who was askin' for him and did Spence Tarrant 
 want him?" 
 
 She debated a moment. 
 
 "Go and ask Mr. Arkansaw to come here, please," she 
 said resolutely. 
 
 "Mr. Arkansas, Mr. Arkansaw !" grinned the boy as he 
 obeyed. "That's class, that is." 
 
 Arkansaw came, quiet, neatly dressed, respectful. He 
 had lived, had this wicked young man, and nothing could 
 astonish him. He removed his hat. 
 
 "It is about Elmer, Mr. Tarrant's foreman," explained 
 Marjorie. "I have a very important message for him." 
 
 "From Spence from Mr. Tarrant?" asked the gambler 
 cautiously. 
 
 "Yes, from Mr. Tarrant." 
 
 "Elmer hasn't been here to-night," said Arkansaw. 
 
 "Do you know where he is ? Is he in town ?" 
 
 The young man shook his head. 
 
 "No, I don't reckon he is," he replied. "They're shut 
 down, you know, and Spence has sort of given the crew a 
 vacation. I did see Elmer this morning. He was starting 
 some place in the old flivver." 
 
 "Do you know where?" 
 
 "I did hear," replied Arkansaw deprecatingly. "He 
 was hitting for the Country Club."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 225 
 
 Marjorie hesitated a moment. 
 
 "That young man Mr. Tarrant's driller?" 
 
 "You mean Buck?" 
 
 "Is that his name ? Do you know where he is ?" 
 
 "Buck," said Arkansaw, "was with Elmer. I reckon 
 there won't be any reaching those boys to-night, miss. 
 The club's across the river, and if that cloud-burst left a 
 bridge standing across the Canyada I'll turn the box I 
 mean, I don't want a cent." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Arkansaw," said Marjorie. "I hope 
 I wasn't too much trouble to you." 
 
 "Trouble?" drawled Arkansaw, while his sharp eyes 
 studied her. "Say, miss, I am a friend of Tarrant's too. 
 I'm a gambler, but I sure 'nough am one of Spence Tar- 
 rant's friends." 
 
 "Mr. Tarrant gave me this note to give to Elmer," 
 said Marjorie. "His affairs are in a terrible crisis and I 
 know this is important, and in a hurry." 
 
 "You couldn't give me a hint what it's about?" sug- 
 gested the young man. 
 
 "I haven't read it, of course," said she smiling. 
 
 "Of course," agreed Arkansaw. 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Then with a sudden 
 decision Marjorie opened the note and read : 
 
 DEAR ELMER: Get a crew together and haul the boiler and 
 timbers and tools for the rotary rig onto the 88 Lease to night. 
 Round up a bunch of the hard ones and put them on guard. 
 When you're there stick, regardless, till you hear from me. 
 
 TARRANT. 
 
 Without a moment of hesitation she passed the note to 
 Arkansaw. He read it and kept it. 
 
 "Spence ain't round himself ?" he asked.
 
 226 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "No," she said ; "he has gone to Ranger Falls." 
 
 "Ranger Falls ?" repeated Arkansaw skeptically. "Sure 
 'nough ? He said he was ?" 
 
 "Yes. He said he was." 
 
 "Well," drawled the gambler, "if Spence said he was 
 going to the Falls I reckon that's where he's going. Well, 
 that being the case, miss, you'd better let me handle this." 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked. "Are you ?" 
 
 "Well, somebody sure has got to do it for Spence, ain't 
 they?" he drawled. 
 
 "But can you?" 
 
 "I reckon Spence has got other friends besides me," 
 was the quiet response. "Sure has. Friends that would 
 go to hell for him. I beg your pardon." 
 
 To cover an unwonted attack of confusion the young 
 man turned to the boy who waited near. 
 
 "Red, you run up and tell Tex to run things for awhile," 
 he directed. "And ask Old Man Swanson to cash in and 
 come down. You excuse me now, miss ; I'll chase down 
 to Sore Eye's stable and make him round up his bunch of 
 skinners." 
 
 Marjorie went home, but she did not sleep until far 
 toward morning. It was not until, peering from her win- 
 dow, she saw and heard a train of eight-horse trucks, 
 groaning along under the persuasion of profane skinners, 
 that she even thought of retiring. The trucks bore a 
 boiler, timbers and tools, and they were moving north, 
 toward the lease known as "88." 
 
 "Somebody must have warned him !" groaned Dr. Dick- 
 inson when he became informed of the significance of this 
 nocturnal caravan. "What will Mr. Bodine say?" 
 
 "Is that all that matters?" asked Marjorie wearily.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 227 
 
 "But Tarrant won't last any longer no matter what he 
 does," continued her parent, unheeding of her question. 
 "The town-people will run him out of the field. They may 
 lynch him. They ought to, the swindler !" 
 
 "What are you talking about, father?" demanded the 
 girl. 
 
 "About Tarrant selling Mr. Bodine his No. 5 as a pro- 
 ducing well!" cried her father. "That's what I'm talking 
 about. And all the time Tarrant knew it was dry !" 
 
 "Father," she stammered, "are you sure that is true?" 
 
 "Ask anybody !" he flared. "It is known all over town !"
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 HP ARRANT sat in his roadster at the gasoline-filling 
 -*- station, ready to start the moment the garage man 
 screwed the cap on his fuel tank. Bodine's car had gone. 
 The mark of its huge tires was still deep in the mud of 
 the street. Tarrant considered the speed of his small car 
 as compared to that of the promoter's and he knew the 
 advantage was too heavily with the latter. Bodine would 
 beat him to Ranger Falls unless Tarrant half rose in his 
 seat. Even as he had reached to throw the clutch in the 
 racing engine his alert senses had caught a message which 
 had not yet become plain to others. With his hand on the 
 lever he sat listening. 
 
 Night had come, suddenly and completely. A hollow 
 whispering of wind whipped through the darkness, more 
 like an omen than a wind. It began to rain. A few 
 sporadic dashes of rain whirled over and then it was quiet 
 for a spell. Tarrant's heart leaped and a grim growl 
 issued from his clenched teeth as he sprang to the ground. 
 Staggering under a sudden gust of wind he turned his 
 face to the west. Many miles separated Tin Spout from 
 the furious norther which had rolled like an elemental 
 avalanche down from the Rocky Mountains onto the coun- 
 try lying toward Ranger Falls, but the tale of it was to 
 be read from the fringes of the storm. Tarrant knew 
 from experience what such storms did to the river. 
 
 "I'm slowing up," he mused. "A norther like that, and 
 
 228
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 229 
 
 thinking of getting to Ranger Falls with a car, and the 
 Rio Canyada to cross !" 
 
 He ran to Nine Spot's stable, saddled the pony and rode 
 out of town at a walk. He did not follow far the road 
 out upon which Bodine and Grogan had driven. The road 
 was a ditch of liquid mud now, through which any car 
 of less power than Bodine's monster would have hard 
 work moving. Having satisfied himself of this Tarrant 
 pulled Nine Spot off the road and pointed straight across 
 the open country. 
 
 To one knowing the lay of the land and not knowing 
 Tarrant's thoughts this must have seemed as the worst of 
 folly, for the road which he quitted ran straight to Ranger 
 Falls and the route which he was taking was not a direct 
 route to Ranger Falls at all. But Tarrant was apparently 
 content, for as soon as Nine Spot was warm he began to 
 ride through the night in deadly earnest. He left the last 
 derrick of the wildest wildcatters behind and sped out 
 onto the barren, untouched country where he and Nine 
 Spot were alone in the night. To the westward he heard 
 the storm raving and brawling and he bent his head 
 against the rain and swung his quirt and rode on. 
 
 Subconsciously his thoughts reverted to the life of his 
 boyhood cowboy days and ran in the channels of that life. 
 For the nonce he ceased to be an oilman and became once 
 more a rider of the plains, free and lonely of soul and 
 boyish and whimsical of mind. The silence of the night 
 and the vastness of space about him, the threatening, un- 
 starred heaven above and gloom-hidden earth beneath, 
 wrought their spell upon him. He was alone in an im- 
 mensity in which man was of infinitesimal proportions.
 
 230 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 The loneliness and the sense of man's inconsequence in 
 the face of the vastness of the signs of the Creator, work- 
 ing its spell as it does upon the lone range rider at night, 
 crept into his bones with the rhythmic thud of Nine Spot's 
 hoofs, the creak of leather, and the wind-whipped rain 
 against his face. He thought of the mission he was on, 
 and subconsciously his thoughts framed themselves into a 
 prayer. 
 
 He came out of the mood with a start, and a sense of 
 irreverence oppressed him momentarily; but presently he 
 looked about and, bowing his head, said "Amen." 
 
 To the westward the brawl of the storm was diminish- 
 ing as the norther raced on to the south and Tarrant knew 
 that the first real test was close at hand. 
 
 "Get on, Nine Spot !" he shouted, and rode hard. 
 
 As he topped the rolling country which told him he was 
 approaching the great bend in the Rio Canyada he slack- 
 ened his speed and began to conserve his mount's energy 
 for the test that lay ahead. A flash of lightning split the 
 night and he noted with grim satisfaction that his blind 
 ride had carried him less than a mile out of the way. A 
 second flash of light pierced the gloom, and this was no 
 lightning, but a steady beam upon the earth's surface 
 which came racing swiftly up the river road from the east. 
 
 Tarrant growled inarticulately at the sight of it, and 
 dashed for the spot where a bridge had been built over the 
 bend. The great searchlight upon Bodine's automobile 
 illumined the road as it curved toward the bridge and the 
 big car came on like a comet. Harsh curses came from 
 the front seat, brakes were shut down sharply and the car 
 slid to a stop with its searchlight gleaming out upon a
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 231 
 
 torrent of brown tossing water where the bridge had been. 
 Two men leaped out. 
 
 "Good heavens ! This bridge is gone, too !" 
 
 A horse galloped into the beam of light to the brink of 
 the torrent. 
 
 "Tarrant!" screamed Bodine. 
 
 "Yes, curse you !" roared Tarrant. "I'm going to beat 
 you out!" 
 
 "Shove up your hands 1" 
 
 "You go to hell!" 
 
 A pressure of knees, a stroke of the quirt; the horse 
 leaped from the bank, out of the beam of light. There 
 was a splash, a snort. Somewhere out in the darkness 
 Tarrant and Nine Spot were swimming for their lives. 
 
 The bed of the Rio Canyada was wide at this point, and 
 now it was bank full with rushing water. With the reins 
 over his arm Tarrant was whipped downstream beside his 
 horse, but his course carried him toward the farther shore. 
 Where the water jammed up against the high bank of the 
 bend there was the semblance of a calm and here he made 
 his fight. 
 
 "Nine Spot!" he shouted, blowing the water from his 
 mouth. "Come on !" 
 
 The current near shore snatched victory from their 
 grasp and swept them away in the instant their feet 
 touched bottom. The branches of a cottonwood swept 
 Tarrant's face, and lunging out he caught a hold. Ages 
 later it seemed, after a heart-breaking struggle, man and 
 horse dragged themselves out of the clutch of the waters 
 and lay panting on the farther bank. Tarrant mounted 
 when strength permitted. He turned in the saddle and 
 shook his fist at the beam of light up the river.
 
 232 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "There, damn you !" he panted. "Let's see you do that 
 with your fancy car !" 
 
 A small rancher on the west side of the Rio Canyada 
 near Big Bend was awakened that night by a drenched 
 rider on a calico horse who rode up and kicked on the 
 kitchen door and demanded instant possession of the mud- 
 stained flivver that stood in the rancher's yard. 
 
 "I'm Tarrant, oilman, from Tin Spout," said the rider. 
 "Drive me to the nearest fast car round here. Name your 
 own price." 
 
 "Where do you come from?" demanded the startled 
 rancher. 
 
 "From Tin Spout." 
 
 "You couldn't. Every bridge is down for a hundred 
 miles along the river." 
 
 "I swam it. The pinto and I," was the reply. "Have 
 somebody take care of him. Here's the money. Name 
 the amount. Now get in and drive." 
 
 A second rancher, who possessed a fast car, was awak- 
 ened an hour later and pressed into service. Through the 
 night Tarrant was driven over the long road to Ranger 
 Falls and as daylight broke he stood pounding upon Jake 
 Stringer's door. Stringer opened to find a soaking, torn 
 apparition with the light of a determined devil in his eyes. 
 
 "Jake, I want to renew that option on the 88 Ranch 
 section," said Tarrant. 
 
 "You woke me up for that?" choked Stringer. "Are 
 you crazy, Tarrant ?" 
 
 "You'll see if you try to hold out," was the grim 
 warning. 
 
 "Hold out! Gosh a'mighty, I only got sixty days 
 more."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 233 
 
 "Sixty days more ; that's what I want." 
 
 "But not now, Spence ; I got to think." 
 
 "Right now !" roared Tarrant. "You renew my option, 
 Jake. You do it right now, or so help me, I'll break your 
 neck!"
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 travels with uncanny swiftness in the oil fields. 
 The telephone wires and the mud-covered cars go 
 everywhere, and such news as this, that Tarrant had 
 reached Ranger Falls in spite of the storm and high water 
 and renewed his option upon the once despised 88 Lease, 
 was too rich to remain hidden. 
 
 "Stuck old Jake Stringer up with a six-gun and made 
 him come through, they tell me," was one version. 
 
 "Stuck up your grandmother's sister!" ran the counter 
 story. "Jake and him had breakfast together." 
 
 The story spread like the light of dawn. It was all over 
 town in a hurry. Such telephone and telegraph wires as 
 had remained up after the storm spread the tale wherever 
 they reached. The drivers of the first service cars to leave 
 town in the morning carried it with them wherever they 
 went. 
 
 Out at the Country Club two first-class oilmen, and 
 first-class poker players, with bloodshot eyes and white 
 faces, were sitting behind large stacks of valuable chips 
 representing the winnings of an all-night session when the 
 news was borne thither. 
 
 "Tarrant's started something on the 88 Lease had a 
 hell of a time over it !" 
 
 Buck looked up from his cards, looked at Elmer and 
 shoved his chips across the table. 
 
 "I'm cashing in," said he. 
 
 "Same here," said Elmer. 
 
 234
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 235 
 
 Out where stood their muddy dilapidated flivver they 
 again looked at one another. 
 
 "Kick me, will you, Buck?" pleaded Elmer. 
 
 "Kick you?" snorted Buck scornfully. "You figure 
 your useless carcass worth wasting a kick on ?" 
 
 "No, coming right down to facts, I don't," said the old 
 man. "I just figured you might do it out of charity, 
 Buck." 
 
 "You're a bum," growled Buck. 
 
 "I'll say I am, Buck." 
 
 "I'm another." 
 
 "I agree there, too, Buck." 
 
 "We're a couple of bums," continued Buck. "We ain't 
 worth kicking." 
 
 Elmer nodded gravely, the Adam's apple in his scrawny 
 throat rising and falling with each movement. 
 
 "It's this gambling and running round that's ruined 
 us," said he. "Always knew it would. My old daddy 
 warned me. 'Leave the cards alone,' said he. Buck 
 Buck, you're young. Let this be a lesson to you. I I 
 hope Spence knocks hell out of both of us like we deserve." 
 
 "We got to get back to Tin Spopt pronto," said Buck. 
 
 "You darn tooting we have," agreed Elmer. 
 
 "The bridges are down." 
 
 "Spence got across, didn't he?" 
 
 "Get some gas, get some gas!" commanded the young 
 man. "Let's get to the river." 
 
 "And if that old rio is still up," said Elmer, "blamed 
 if I don't swim her or drown in the attempt." 
 
 This desperate course, however, proved to be unneces- 
 sary. They drove to a point near where the railroad 
 crossed the Rio Canyada and there they found workmen
 
 236 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 on stout rafts recovering pieces of trestlework which had 
 been gnawed out by the brawling waters of the river. 
 Buck talked to the section foreman in charge. He talked 
 with his tongue and all the winning eloquence with which 
 he was gifted. The foreman was adamant. 
 
 "No," he said. "Think we're running a ferry?" 
 
 Then Buck talked with his poker winnings. He talked 
 with Elmer's winnings. The foreman eyed the bills and 
 shook his head. He eyed them again and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 "Seeing it's you, boys, I'll help you out," he grunted. 
 "Here, swing that raft over to this shore." 
 
 The flivver and its two occupants were ferried across. 
 
 "Thank heaven I learned how to play cards !" muttered 
 Elmer as they drove toward Tin Spout. "Buck, let this be 
 a lesson to you. When you play cards always try to win." 
 
 "We'll go right to the office and take our medicine," 
 said Buck when they rolled into Tin Spout. "Me I'll 
 take anything he hands us." 
 
 "Same here," agreed Elmer, as they swung in sight of 
 the office. "Hello! The door is shut Who is that stand- 
 ing on the steps, Buck?" 
 
 "It's a skirt," said Buck, glancing toward the building. 
 
 "It ain't!" said Elmer emphatically. "It's Miss Mar- 
 jorie." 
 
 Marjorie did not smile as they approached. She looked 
 at them closely while they greeted her respectfully and 
 alighted from the car. 
 
 "Have you seen Mr. Tarrant?" she asked coldly. 
 
 "Haven't seen him, no, Miss Marjorie/' replied Elmer. 
 "Heard of him though."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 237 
 
 She waited as if expecting him to explain further. She 
 was reluctant to ask any more questions. 
 
 "What did you hear?" she said finally. 
 
 "Heard he was starting something on the 88 Lease," 
 was the reply. "Heard he got to the Falls and got a 
 renewal from old Jake." 
 
 "Is that all you have heard ?" she asked. 
 
 "Sure is, Miss Marjorie," said Elmer. "Me and Buck 
 come a- jumping soon as we heard." 
 
 She studied them carefully. Their faces were hard and 
 haggard and marked by the life they led, but there could 
 be no mistaking the honesty and sincerity that showed in 
 their eyes. 
 
 "Yes," she said softly, "I see that you don't know any- 
 thing about it." 
 
 "We was hoping you might tell us," suggested Buck. 
 
 "About what?" she said. 
 
 "About this 88 Lease business," replied the driller. 
 "We thought mebbe you heard something." 
 
 "Oh, that," said Marjorie deprecatingly. "Yes, Mr. 
 Tarrant left a note for you, Elmer. It directed you to 
 get an outfit onto the lease at once." 
 
 Elmer whistled softly. 
 
 "That will be a job !" he said. "The Syndicate crowd 
 will corral every truck and team in the market." 
 
 "The outfit is on the lease," said Marjorie. 
 
 "What? Spence did he get back?" 
 
 "No," replied the girl slowly. "I won't take time to 
 explain, but some people who didn't understand were 
 friendly to him, and the outfit went out last night." 
 
 "Elmer," said Buck, "that's where we belong right 
 now."
 
 238 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "This note which was addressed to you, Elmer, directed 
 you to get on the lease and remain in spite of everything 
 until Mr. Tarrant returned," she went on. 
 
 "Sure! To hold her down against all comers!" cried 
 Elmer repentantly. "Crank up, Buck." 
 
 She stepped back as they prepared to depart. She 
 waited until they were seated in the car. Then impulsively 
 she stepped forward. 
 
 "Will you do me a very great favor ?" she asked. 
 
 There was a note of pleading in her tone though she 
 strove to suppress it. 
 
 "Miss Marjorie," said Elmer earnestly, "we sure will." 
 
 "Will you promise me to tell the truth," she said. 
 
 "Sure will." 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then with sudden determina- 
 tion: 
 
 "Did Mr. Tarrant know that No. 5 was a dry hole 
 before he sold it on the Exchange that night ?" 
 
 "He sure did, Miss Marjorie," was the reply, "or he 
 wouldn't have sold it." 
 
 "Thank you," she said simply. 
 
 "What's up, Miss Marjorie?" said Elmer. "Anything 
 we can do?" 
 
 "Yes," she said resolutely, after a moment of hesita- 
 tion, "if anyone should ask, you might remember that I 
 told you I am leaving Tin Spout for good." 
 
 The first train to reach Tin Spout from Ranger Falls 
 arrived at nine in the evening, and Tarrant leaped off 
 before the train had come to a full stop. The memory 
 of Marjorie's hand on his shoulder the night before was 
 singing in his heart. She had come to warn him! She
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 239 
 
 had helped him! In a few short hours the hope and 
 desire of youth had been born anew in him. The reason 
 for her conduct was incomprehensible to him. Had she 
 forgotten or forgiven his brutality that day when he 
 picked her up and kissed her? Did her conduct indicate 
 something more than mere friendliness? 
 
 These were problems that occupied Spence Tarrant's 
 mind as, with the young blood leaping in his veins, he 
 strode from the train toward the boarding house of Mar- 
 jorie and her father. For the moment he had no thoughts 
 of anything else. His feet scarcely touched the ground 
 as he walked. He was oblivious to the glances that fol- 
 lowed him, oblivious to the people who stepped aside as 
 he approached and stared after him with black looks as 
 he passed. He was buoyed up by the thoughts which had 
 inspired him through the night. He had won one strug- 
 gle solely because of her inspiration. He knew full well 
 that the real struggle, the grim fight against the power 
 of the outraged Syndicate, was about to begin. The 
 knowledge did not trouble him. The wondrous new hope 
 in his heart was like an armour. And with his head high 
 and the light of fervour in his eyes he knocked at the 
 boarding-house door. 
 
 "She's gone," Mrs. Hemp said at the sight of him. 
 Her tone was curt. "She left this afternoon for Chicago. 
 She ain't ever coming back." 
 
 The door slammed, and it was over. 
 
 Tarrant recalled but little of the remainder of the night. 
 There was a hazy recollection of visiting the station and 
 questioning a sleepy agent. The agent's manner, which 
 usually was genially respectful toward him, was strange
 
 240 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 and cold, but Tarrant's faculties were too much numbed 
 by the words he had heard to detect any difference. 
 
 "Went north on No. i," said the agent. "Her and the 
 Doc'. Tickets to Chicago. Trunks marked to Lakeside 
 Hotel. Anything else?" 
 
 Somehow he got out to the lease. He did not remember 
 how or when. He concealed his hurt skilfully. Neither 
 Elmer nor Buck was conscious of any change in him. He 
 asked no questions and volunteered no information. 
 Partly from instinct and training and partly in a fury of 
 frustrated youth he at once took up the task of locating 
 the new well. Throughout the close warm night he 
 worked, silently and grimly and in the same manner Buck 
 and Elmer worked with him. Dawn came. The sun 
 spread rosily over the drab landscape, so that Bodine's 
 spies from their hiding places on near-by rises could watch 
 the activity at the new well.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 "D Y the terms of the renewed option he had sixty days 
 *-* in which to bring in a producing well or relinquish 
 his claim to the future of the lease. Tarrant now conse- 
 crated himself entirely to this task. 
 
 ''Boy," Jake Stringer had said upon signing the option, 
 "you got as much chance to finish that hole as a man has 
 starting to build him a herd with one old steer." 
 
 "I have heard," retorted Tarrant, "that several men 
 have got together a herd with nothing but a hot iron to 
 start with." 
 
 "Mebbe so," agreed Stringer, "but they didn't have the 
 Pan-National Syndicate on the prod against them. You 
 play 'em close to your chest from now on, d'you hear, 
 Spence ? You've busted into their corral a couple of times 
 and they don't 'low to let you form the habit. Keep shet 
 of Grogan. You know what I mean. You've got your- 
 self into a real game now. They'll sure call for a show- 
 down." 
 
 Tarrant realised better than anyone else how true were 
 Stringer's words. He had staked all on a desperate play. 
 Against him there were desperate men, Bodine and Gro- 
 gan and their associates and satellites. One or the other 
 side must go under. The Tin Spout field did not have 
 room for him and Bodine. His one chance to win was to 
 bring in a good well within the time limit. If he accom- 
 plished this he could clinch a hold on the 88 Lease. If he 
 struck the great pool, which his faith and knowledge told 
 
 241
 
 242 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 him was within the realm of possibility, the Syndicate 
 would be done for. Not a foot of the new field would be 
 in their possession. A true boom would be born and 
 Pan-National stock would collapse like a bubble. Where- 
 fore it was improbable that the Syndicate would remain 
 idle and allow him to complete his test. 
 
 Tarrant's expression grew calm and hard as he con- 
 templated the situation. He had good friends in the field, 
 but the Syndicate was in control for the present. Virtually 
 he was an Ishmaelite. Such hands as were not against 
 him were strictly neutral. He was forced to bring his rig 
 builders in from far away where news of the struggle had 
 not been spread. When the builders learned of the trouble 
 they balked and he held them to the contract by sheer force 
 of will and determination. His first act on returning to 
 the lease was to build a twelve-foot stockade round the 
 site of the well. His shotgun guards patrolled outside the 
 fence day and night, and the rig builders were not allowed 
 to depart until the derrick was complete. His hardness 
 won the hard workmen he employed. The carpenters 
 shook hands as they departed upon the completion of their 
 job. 
 
 The rotary drill with its cumbersome machinery was 
 hung in place. Because of the greater speed with which 
 this type of drill bit through the earth, he had decided to 
 use the rotary system until he approached the depth where 
 he hoped to find the pay sand. Then a change would be 
 made to cable tools and the drilling would continue slowly 
 and with great care. 
 
 The steam was turned on and the machinery began to 
 rumble.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 243 
 
 "Spud in," said Tarrant, and the drilling of the well 
 began. 
 
 Tarrant selected his drilling crew with extra care. El- 
 mer and Buck were each placed in charge of a "tower," as 
 the different shifts are called, and upon their shoulders 
 he placed the responsibility of seeing that the work went 
 on as if he were always present. His deadly determina- 
 tion imparted itself to them and dominated their careless 
 spirits. The lanky Elmer and the boyish Buck alike grew 
 grim, tense, decisive. A tool dresser under Buck's eye 
 allowed a cracked drill bit to go back to the driller ; Buck 
 and he fought seriously and silently, and in the end Buck's 
 youth told and the principle of perfect work was definitely 
 and brutally imprinted in the tool dresser's mind. 
 
 A Mexican derrick man committed the carelessness of 
 beginning his climb to the crown block with the wisp of a 
 cigarette smouldering beneath his scant mustache, and 
 Elmer leaped up after him with his knife drawn. The 
 Mexican jumped, and lay on his back for a month with a 
 broken leg; and other workmen were careful to avoid 
 such lapses of memory in the future. 
 
 Tarrant, during these days, was a cold fury unleashed. 
 Like a tiger guarding his lair he prowled ubiquitously 
 about, his eyes strained for danger signs, his expression 
 a defiance and a menace. Hampered as he was by a ring 
 of enemies and purchased or intimidated neutrals, the 
 task of keeping the drill going was one of infinite detail 
 and petty worry. The power of the Syndicate was made 
 evident by his complete isolation. Tarrant had plenty of 
 friends, and they were not of the sort who would have 
 been turned away or frightened by threats, but the golden 
 promise of the Syndicate was too much for them.
 
 244 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 In the madness of the scramble and clutching of sudden 
 wealth, the freaky turns of fortune's whims which brought 
 wealth unexpectedly or took it away likewise, the instinct 
 was not to pause and analyse ethics or character. Men 
 saw things as they were there and at that particular time. 
 They saw that fortune cared not in the least for the in- 
 dividual upon whom it poured its richest favours. They 
 knew that only the weak whined if the game went against 
 them. So chancy a game was it, so uncertain the balance 
 which brought gold or ruin, that the single aim in all 
 minds was to leap and grasp with all power the chance for 
 rich returns the instant it appeared. 
 
 This was what the Pan-National Syndicate appeared 
 to offer. It had planned, predicted and promised a boom 
 for Tin Spout, and the boom had appeared. It had prom- 
 ised money to its members in return for uncertain leases, 
 and the money had begun to trickle in. It predicted that 
 Tin Spout would become a city like Ranger Falls ; it prom- 
 ised more money great, certain floods of gold as soon 
 as the organisation machinery was complete, and what 
 good reasons were there for doubting that these promises, 
 too, would be fulfilled? The promise was too great, too 
 dazzling. Men who could not have been frightened from 
 Tarrant's side were lured by the golden prospect, as metals 
 are lured by the magnet's power. 
 
 Tarrant had to go it alone. He did. The cold vigi- 
 lance of his eye and the bleak tightness of his lips pre- 
 vented many from hindering though they would not help. 
 His coup in assembling materials for the rig, and ma- 
 terials and the initial string of casing and rushing them 
 onto the lease at night alone had enabled him to make a 
 start. After that the boycott began to work against him.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 245 
 
 His orders for more casing were canceled. A new drill 
 stem and jar which he had ordered lay rusting beneath a 
 foot of mud where it had been buried upon its arrival at 
 Tin Spout. Oil for fuel for the boiler was shut off. 
 Water for drilling was a difficult matter. And the re- 
 placement of worn-out and broken tools and material was 
 a constant struggle. 
 
 The job went on. Tarrant got what he needed. He 
 bought and borrowed what he could; what he could not 
 buy or borrow he took. There was no question of ethics 
 involved. In the phrenetic scramble to drive a hole in the 
 earth deep enough to reach the oil strata it was universally 
 acknowledged that all other considerations were subordi- 
 nated to the simple principle of accomplishment. 
 
 Men grasped madly at whatever tools they needed and 
 could find. The fact that these tools might belong to 
 someone else had only a slight bearing on the matter, pro- 
 vided they could be secured and used. Title to ownership 
 of material was a tenuous matter; possession and use, 
 everything. At one time, later on, when the true oil boom 
 came to Tin Spout, there was under control of the courts 
 over a million dollars' worth of well material, title to 
 which had been distressingly clouded by continued stealing 
 and restealing. Men were in a frenzy of fever, and they 
 recognised no law save the law of accomplishment. 
 
 Tarrant's job needed sundry material, and being ruth- 
 lessly boycotted by the power of the Syndicate, he became 
 ruthless himself, and his job got the material it needed. 
 Afterwards, after the desperate drive and accomplishment 
 were a matter of local history, he would retrace his way 
 and settle for the wreckage. He did not think of that at 
 present, however. The man who had material which the
 
 246 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 job needed and who refused to sell it, was to him a nat- 
 ural enemy. He treated him as such. Being a little 
 stronger, a little more ruthless and a great deal more 
 determined than these for the nonce natural enemies, he 
 usually had his way. And his conscience troubled him 
 exactly as much as a tiger is troubled over obstacles which 
 he cuffs out of his trail. 
 
 The progress of the well was painfully slow despite the 
 speed with which the rotary drill gnawed its way through 
 the earth. A series of accidents served to delay the work 
 when it had got fairly under way. In fact Tarrant's Wild- 
 cat No. 6 fell heir to all the misfortune which makes oil 
 drilling so speculative a proposition. A great bowlder 
 was struck in a formation where no amount of geological 
 information or experience could have foreseen its pres- 
 ence. Immediately after this obstacle had been overcome 
 a string of casing buckled in the hole. The two accidents 
 and the consequent strain and worry temporarily shattered 
 the morale of the crew. A drill bit was jarred off and 
 work was shut down while the crew fished for the tool. 
 
 Days of precious time were lost in this manner. The 
 period of the option was rapidly dwindling away and the 
 well log showed that the drill was far from the depth at 
 which Tarrant hoped to find the pay sand. Elmer and 
 Buck counted the days which remained for them to com- 
 plete the well in, and estimated the number of feet and the 
 formation through which they must drill. 
 
 "We will make the grade," said Buck decisively when 
 their estimate had been made. 
 
 "How come?" demanded Elmer. 
 
 "It comes this way," retorted the driller. "We've done 
 drew all the hard luck that was out against us. I don't
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 247 
 
 say that from now on it will all come our way, but the 
 percentage is in our favor. Give us an even break and on 
 the eighth we'll be down to that level where Spence figures 
 the pay to lay here. That will give us a margin of five 
 days according to my figuring." 
 
 "Five days!" piped Elmer excitedly. "You sure of 
 that, Buck? For Mike's sake get that calendar let's see 
 the mark gosh-a-whistling, you're right!" 
 
 "Going nuts?" demanded Buck calmly. 
 
 "On the thirteenth!" exclaimed Elmer. "Look at the 
 calendar yourself. Spence's option expires at noon on the 
 thirteenth. Darn the luck! We're licked. There won't 
 be anything in that sand even if we do hit it in time. 
 Thirteen on the option means no oil in the well." 
 
 At seventeen hundred feet the change to the cable-tool 
 system of drilling was made. Buck's confidence in the 
 future seemed justified. The hard luck appeared to have 
 departed. The formation now was easily drilled. The 
 great steel bit, with tons of metal driving it, went on down 
 and down without any untoward delays and the casing 1 
 followed it without accident. 
 
 As the drill went down the price of crude oil continued 
 to go up. The demand for gasoline, even at unheard-of 
 prices, was insatiable. High-gravity crude went to two 
 dollars and seventy-five cents a barrel. Refiners were 
 fighting one another for the stuff. Bribes and premiums 
 paid to well owners became the rule. Crude oil jumped 
 to three dollars a barrel, and in the Northern Texas fields 
 refiners were paying a premium of twenty-five cents a 
 barrel. 
 
 "If the boss hits it now," said Buck, "he's a made man."
 
 248 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "He won't," persisted Elmer positively. "Thirteen on 
 the option means no oil in the well." 
 
 Tarrant himself was at the well day and night now. 
 Each time that the tools were raised and the hole bailed 
 he analysed the slush as it was poured into the pool. He 
 found little to encourage him. The bailer showed the old 
 formation of shale and gumbo alternating, and clay, with 
 no trace of the lime caprock which he expected to find 
 overlying the oil sand. With the true oilman's faith, how- 
 ever, each run of the bailing bucket was a new beginning. 
 What had gone before was forgotten. His faith was un- 
 shaken. Any run of the bailer might be the one to justify 
 this faith. 
 
 The first serious blow to him came when the log indi- 
 cated that the well was at the depth where he had found 
 the dry sand in Well No. 5, and still no showing of cap- 
 rock or sand. Was it possible that he had erred and lo- 
 cated the well too far to the north? He checked up his 
 figures and appraised the location for the dozenth time 
 and found them all as he wished. 
 
 "We must have got outside that deep sand," suggested 
 Buck. 
 
 "No," replied Tarrant, "it lies deeper than I figured. 
 Keep drilling." 
 
 They drilled to a depth of two thousand feet and still 
 there was no change in the formation. 
 
 "Keep drilling," was the order. 
 
 They went to 2100 feet, an unheard-of depth in that 
 field. 
 
 "We're way deeper than any pay sand in this part of 
 the country now," reminded Buck. 
 
 "We'll go another hundred feet," was the response.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 249 
 
 "Then we have to scare up a new string of casing," an- 
 nounced Buck. 
 
 This was serious. The supply of casing had been prac- 
 tically shut off to Tarrant. The Syndicate's influence had 
 served to cancel or delay his orders, or to divert to other 
 fields casing which was being shipped to him. The supply 
 of pipe on hand would have been sufficient had the sand 
 been found at the expected depth. He had been unable to 
 procure any more at the time. But more casing must be 
 had. There was no other solution to the problem. 
 
 "How much have you got left, Buck?" he asked. 
 
 "A single length," replied the driller. 
 
 "Better let me and Buck go see if we can corral some, 
 boss," suggested Elmer. "You are too well known. Me 
 and Buck now, somebody might let us have some." 
 
 "You are right," agreed Tarrant. "Take the truck 
 and go to it."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 "CALMER and Buck rolled away toward town in silence. 
 *--' They had both lost faith in the new well. They felt 
 their work to be useless. It was not ethical to express 
 themselves to this effect, however, so they rode for a long 
 time in silence. At last Buck swore at the condition of 
 the road, and the spell was broken. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Elmer, rousing himself, "the road's like 
 the rest of this country now ; she's plumb ruined. It used 
 to be different. I was here as a young fellow, riding range 
 for the old 88 Ranch when she was a ranch. Boy, you 
 could start your pony in any direction and go to sleep and 
 ride all day without running into anything high enough to 
 stop you. S'pose you'd get a little too much in town at 
 night and the boys had to load you. You'd get out of 
 town and pick out the star over the ranch house and head 
 straight for that star. If you'd see two stars you'd head 
 for between them. Then all you had to do was to stay 
 in the saddle and the pony would do the rest. There 
 wasn't any derricks or cities or skyscrapers they wasn't 
 even a fence to hinder you. Just head for the right star, 
 like a sailor, and you'd come home snoring." 
 
 "Suppose there wasn't any stars," said Buck, the realist. 
 
 Elmer regarded him with a grieved expression. 
 
 "I knew a young fellow named Buck once who was a 
 good party," he said. "Knew enough not to show his 
 ignorance by interrupting his elders. No, gents, you can't 
 tell by the name what kind of formation a man's made of." 
 
 250
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 251 
 
 "I wish we couldn't get any casing," said Buck suddenly. 
 
 "Meaning?" 
 
 "Then we would have to stop drilling," explained the 
 driller. "Spence has gone bugs on that hole. She's a 
 dead one. I hate to see him shove any more money down 
 her." 
 
 "He don't drink," retorted Elmer ; "he won't go to town 
 and gamble. Let him spend his money as he likes. That's 
 all I ever found the stuff good for." 
 
 "That's because you're so ignorant, Elmer," explained 
 Buck. "Me when I see money I see silk shirts and jew- 
 elry. That's what education does for you, Elmer." 
 
 "Yep," agreed the old man, "and girls." 
 
 "Ignorance again," said the driller sorrowfully. "Fem- 
 inine company is uplifting and refining. Look at me; 
 then gaze on you. What could be plainer? Don't speak 
 whereof you don't know." 
 
 "Ho!" snorted the old man. "Nobody knows nothing 
 about girls, if it comes to that. I came scand'lous nigh 
 being married by one of them on account of that once. 
 Girl named Carrie. Her dad was a rig builder down in 
 the Corsicana field and Carrie was doing the cooking for 
 the crew. She takes to me, and to warn her away I let the 
 rumour spread round and reach her ears that I'm a rene- 
 gade Mormon and deserted three wives back in Utah. 
 Hanged if it didn't make Carrie aspire to be Number 
 Four ! I traveled. Left four days' pay due me, too." 
 
 "Poor Carrie!" yawned Buck. "She'll never know 
 what she missed." 
 
 They jolted into Tin Spout and as a strategic manceuver 
 parked their truck at the rear of a long shed in which a 
 pile of Syndicate casing was stored.
 
 252 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 An oil gauger, passing by, glanced at them and, recog- 
 nizing them, quickly turned his eyes elsewhere. 
 
 "Hello, Bud!" called Buck. 
 
 The man looked back at them, spat and went on. 
 
 "Is that bird deaf ?" demanded the driller. 
 
 "He wasn't the last time I see him," replied Elmer. 
 
 The man disappeared round the corner. Presently a 
 head peered round the bank building, looked at them, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 "Let's go down to Chili Joe's and get a cup of coffee," 
 suggested Buck. 
 
 "Coffee!" muttered Elmer. "Can't you see something's 
 up? We ain't as popular as we used to be, for some 
 reason." 
 
 "Reckon not?" said the younger man. "Then I reckon 
 we'll be finding out why." 
 
 "There's the law," said Elmer, indicating the town 
 marshal who was crossing the street. 
 
 "Hey, John Law !" cried Buck. "Hold on a minute." 
 
 The officer halted, looked at them, turned his head and 
 went on his way. 
 
 "Well," said Buck, "we ain't wanted, anyway." 
 
 Elmer's shaggy brows were drawn down over his eyes. 
 
 "I feel," said he, "something like I did the time I wan- 
 dered into a camp of cholas down in Sonora just when 
 they were figuring how to bump me off." 
 
 "Speaking personally," said Buck, "I'm getting a little 
 peeved." 
 
 "You hang onto your shirt," retorted Elmer. "This 
 is something that requires careful trailing." 
 
 "There's Lafe," said Buck, espying the garage man 
 across the street. "He's a buddy of mine. Come on."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 253 
 
 Lafe was not pleased at the sight of his buddy. He did 
 not return Buck's salutation. 
 
 "What in blazes is up, Lafe?" demanded the driller. 
 "We ain't poison." 
 
 Lafe swung round on him angrily. 
 
 "Don't play me for a damn fool, Buck, please," he said 
 hotly. "You knew it was dry. How much did Tarrant 
 pay you to help his game along ?" 
 
 Buck and Elmer stared at one another. 
 
 "You ain't talking to me, Lafe," said the driller. "Ex- 
 plain a little, please." 
 
 "Tarrant sold Mr. Bodine No. 5 for a guaranteed well, 
 didn't he ?" came the reply. "Bodine gave the town people 
 first crack at the stock. Naturally everybody bought. 
 Tarrant worked the play up slick, I'll say that for him. 
 Building a good reputation to cash in on. Nobody was 
 on to him until Bodine showed him up. Tarrant knew it 
 was a dry hole, outside the field. Let his friends get 
 stuck! He was wise in staying away; he knew he was 
 through here. Bodine is big enough to make good. Issu- 
 ing Pan-National stock share for share of the swindle. I 
 reckon you wasn't in it, Buck. Reckon Tarrant kept it 
 all for himself, same as he did of what he got out of 
 Wayne." 
 
 "Don't hit him, Buck," said Elmer sternly. "Lafe has 
 lost some money and it hurts." 
 
 "It ain't just losing the money that hurts," said the 
 garage man. "You boys know the kind of faith folks had 
 in Spence Tarrant. He meant something to us. Then 
 the way he fooled that girl. Broke her all up when she 
 learned what he was, they tell me. Her pop had to take
 
 254 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 her away. Tarrant had played himself up so fine with her 
 she actually helped him get that new option, though it 
 seems her pop had sized up Tarrant all the time and had 
 warned her how he was bound to turn out. Dickinson 
 put every dollar he could borrow into that swindle of 
 Tarrant's. From what I hear, though, Bodine has con- 
 soled them considerable. Bodine will have it all his own 
 way there now. Too bad about Tarrant. He sure is 
 through here." 
 
 "Buck, you keep your shirt on, I tell you," admonished 
 Elmer. "This is something for Spence to handle his black 
 self. Bodine has put a trick over. Lafe, there'll be dead 
 men over this." 
 
 "I don't believe it," responded Lafe. "A man who will 
 pull tricks like that isn't the kind to fight." 
 
 "Meaning Tarrant?" flared Buck. "He didn't pull any 
 swindle. And fight? Man, he'll come in and shoot day- 
 light through Bodine." 
 
 "I'll believe when I see it," was the reply. 
 
 "We're in after casing, Buck," reminded Elmer. 
 
 Lafe shook his head. 
 
 "Don't you boys try to get anything in this town," he 
 said grimly. "I'm saying that friendly, mind you. I 
 
 know you're all right, but there's folks here You go 
 
 hunt for casing some place else. Don't you waste any time 
 here." 
 
 "I guess he's right, Buck," said Elmer after a survey 
 of the hostile stares directed at them. 
 
 "I'll go with you till you're out of town," volunteered 
 the garage man. "Don't say 'no.' There's a new crowd 
 in town. Bad ones who run with Grogan. They killed
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 255 
 
 a couple roughnecks out at the Country Club the other 
 night. Some say Grogan did it himself. Be friendly and 
 vamoose, boys. That's sensible. This ain't no place for 
 anyone who is working for Tarrant."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 ARR ANT'S manner of receiving the story which 
 Elmer and Buck reluctantly told upon their return 
 from town was such as to puzzle his loyal henchmen sorely. 
 He sat on a base timber and listened without a trace of 
 emotion in his eyes until they were done. 
 
 "So that was it?" he said. 
 
 "That is it," corrected Buck. 
 
 Tarrant looked up. The new light in his eyes was 
 beyond comprehension. It was not the blazing light of 
 anger the pair had expected. Tarrant sensed the disap- 
 pointment in his two friends and hastened to assure them. 
 
 "I'll take care of it, boys," he said. 
 
 "Sure," said Elmer, "we knew you'd want to know." 
 
 "That's right," Tarrant said. 
 
 "We'll go with you," blurted Buck. 
 
 "I reckon we will," supplemented Elmer. "Yes, sir, I 
 reckon me and Buck will do just that little thing." 
 
 Tarrant did not reply. He rose and walked away from 
 the derrick to be alone. When he returned he said : 
 
 "I am going away for a few days. I don't want a man 
 to leave the job. Your pay goes on the same as if we 
 were drilling." 
 
 "You going to Tin Spout?" demanded Elmer, barring 
 his way. 
 
 "No," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Sure 'nough ?" demanded the old man. 
 
 "I am not going to Tin Spout," replied Tarrant. "I 
 give you my word I am not going after Bodine now." 
 
 256
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 257 
 
 He drove to Ranger Falls by a roundabout route, avoid- 
 ing Tin Spout, and caught the local evening train for the 
 east. At Dennison he alighted from the local to await 
 the night train from Fort Worth. The train was late. He 
 paced up and down in the darkness at one end of the sta- 
 tion, impatient of the delay. The flashing headlight of 
 the flyer as it roared into sight brought a trace of relief to 
 his tense nerves. This train would bear him away from 
 the oil country at express speed. He entered a sleeping 
 car. It was near midnight, but a brown hand shot out 
 from the half -open door of a lighted compartment and 
 caught him by the arm. 
 
 "Spence Tarrant! You ol' wildcat!" hailed maudlin 
 voices from within. "Just the man we're looking for! 
 C'mon in ; the liquor's fine !" 
 
 Tarrant looked at the four oilmen in the room. Stacks 
 of money and playing cards lay on the table. Four right 
 hands reached forward to grasp his hands; four left 
 hands, each grasping a quart bottle partly emptied, waved 
 a supplementary invitation. 
 
 "Thanks, boys, but I can't join you," said Tarrant 
 firmly. 
 
 "On er job, Spence?" 
 
 "Yes," replied he, "I'm on a job." 
 
 "S'all right if you're on er job," floated after him as he 
 went on down the aisle to his berth. "We, Us & Company 
 we're happy HI' boys out o' school." 
 
 In the morning he changed at Tulsa and caught a train 
 which would give him the fastest connection out of Kan- 
 sas City. All day long he sat staring out upon the hot 
 dusty landscape and the hotter and dustier towns along 
 the line. He could not get away from oil. Each freight
 
 258 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 train that was passed seemed to him to consist solely of 
 casing and timbers and* empty tank cars being hauled 
 southward to the oil fields, or of filled tank cars on their 
 way north and east. The vastness and importance of the 
 industry impressed itself upon him. Crude oil seemed 
 to have become as the very life-blood of modern industry. 
 The knowledge that he was a part of it, was indeed one of 
 those whose faith and knowledge were constantly bringing 
 in for man's use new sources of the vital fluid, failed to 
 thrill him. The very thought of oil hurt. 
 
 In the evening the train halted for supper and Tarrant 
 suddenly was aware that he had not eaten since the day 
 before. He tumbled out and joined in the onslaught on 
 the Fred Harvey eating house. The waitress who took 
 his order was young and slender and fair haired. Tarrant 
 left five dollars on the table when he arose, and went back 
 to his seat in the train. 
 
 The great Union Station in Kansas City at night was 
 a relief to him because it seemed to him to simulate a vast 
 portal where the oil fields were definitely left behind. He 
 caught the California Limited bound Chicagoward by a 
 narrow margin. As he dropped into his section the por- 
 ter's face lighted with a grin of recognition. 
 
 "Ah done carried you befo', suh," he explained. "You 
 an oilman. Ah used to run on the Frisco down in Texas. 
 Yes, suh." 
 
 A thin, harried woman in the seat across the aisle looked 
 up at the words. 
 
 "Pardon me, are you an oilman?" she demanded un- 
 abashed. "Well, I wish you'd tell me about some shares. 
 It's the Pan-National Syndicate. That's a good com- 
 pany, isn't it?"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 259 
 
 "Have you bought any?" asked Tarrant. 
 
 She had. She was a school-teacher from Michigan. 
 She had invested her savings of years in Syndicate stock. 
 It was wonderful what fortunes were made in oil. 
 
 He escaped to the club car without having committed 
 himself. The game was greater even than he had thought. 
 It was like a vast octopus stretching its tentacles out from 
 those squalid towns in the Southwest and drawing from 
 the farthest corners of the land the savings of people 
 charmed by the siren song of quick wealth. 
 
 He awoke next morning feeling chilled. He slid up the 
 curtain of his window and glanced out. Long, mouse- 
 colored piles of dirt met his view and occasionally a 
 glimpse of water, and he recognised them as the spoil 
 banks of the drainage canal. Chicago was next. He rose 
 and shaved and dressed carefully. 
 
 "You got nice time to get yo' brekfas', suh," volunteered 
 the porter. Oilmen are invariably generous. 
 
 "Yes," said Tarrant, "I suppose I ought to eat. They 
 say a man usually needs a hearty breakfast before being 
 hung." 
 
 The long train was rolling into the old Polk Street Sta- 
 tion when he finished his meal. Porters and baggagemen 
 were perspiring and muttering against the heat, but to 
 Tarrant the morning was deliciously cool. He entered a 
 taxicab before the station. 
 
 "The Lakeside Beach Hotel," said he to the driver. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 It was a long ride. To Tarrant it seemed longer than 
 the journey from Tin Spout to Chicago. As the car sped 
 up the Lake Shore Drive and the waters of Lake Michi- 
 gan came in view a shiver ran through him. He shook
 
 260 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 himself. Was it a premonition ? Was it only the breeze 
 from the lake acting upon his sun-soaked tissues? He 
 closed the windows in the cab as they rolled through Lin- 
 coln Park, but the sensation of coldness did not leave him. 
 
 The great hotel far up on the north side on the very 
 edge of the lake might have impressed him more had he 
 not known that a good part of the money that had made 
 its cool magnificence possible had sprung from the mucky, 
 sweltering oil fields of the Southwest. He was glad Mar- 
 jorie was at a place like this. It was the proper setting 
 for her. 
 
 She was not in her room or about the hotel. A bell boy 
 volunteered the information that he had seen her walking 
 down the beach. Tarrant followed the curving beach of 
 firm, cool sand in the direction indicated. It was too early 
 for the beach to be thronged with bathers, but a number 
 of children were disporting themselves in the shallow 
 water, and well inshore, in the shade of a parasol, sat 
 Marjorie. 
 
 His footsteps made no sound on the moist sand as he 
 approached, but she started while he was far away and 
 looked up and saw him. A look of distress came upon her 
 face like a cloud. 
 
 "Why have you come here?" she demanded. "You 
 have no right. I had almost forgotten." 
 
 "I came because I have a right," he said steadily. "A 
 man has the right to clear his name. I have come to clear 
 mine with you." 
 
 She looked at him with an expression that told him she 
 now wished him to consider himself a stranger to her, but 
 he continued firmly : 
 
 "I am not a swindler. I told Mr. Bodine that No. 5
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 261 
 
 was a dry hole. I told other people. They would not 
 believe me ; they thought I was talking for effect. Bodine 
 knew the well was no good when he offered the stock in 
 Tin Spout. He kept his knowledge secret until the stock 
 was disposed of. Then he laid the blame on me. I just 
 learned of all this the other day. I have been out at my 
 new well night and day, shut off from the world. I came 
 here first, to find you and tell you this, because, regardless 
 of the future, your opinion of me is more valuable to me 
 than that of the rest of the world. But I am going to get 
 back the good opinion of others, too. I had a good repu- 
 tation down there. I've kept square always. 
 
 "If the people there were normal they would know I 
 wouldn't be guilty of that sort of a trick letting them lose 
 their money. But they are not normal. The boom has 
 made them half crazy, and they are swayed by every 
 rumour. When things become normal they will see more 
 clearly, but I am not going to wait for that. I am going 
 back to Tin Spout and clear my name now. You have got 
 to admit that you took the word of other people for my 
 alleged swindling. Now I ask you to take my word for 
 my squareness until I have proved it absolutely." 
 
 A gentle wave swept in from the lake, rolling up the 
 beach and breaking into foam at their feet. She traced a 
 pattern in the wet sand with her toe before replying. 
 
 "There was proof," she said. "Everyone accepted it as 
 proof; I had to. A skilful business man like Mr. Bodine 
 would not have bought your well if he had known it was 
 dry." 
 
 "He didn't know until the deal was made," replied 
 Tarrant 
 
 "Oh ! But I thought you said "
 
 262 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Marjorie," he interrupted, "men in the oil game know 
 that they buy oil wells before production at their own risk. 
 That is the rule. I knew Bodine was after my No. 5 
 lease. I knew he would buy me out if he had a chance. I 
 gave him the chance. I did not say a word about the well 
 being a producer. When I had his money I told him it 
 was dry. I told him why I wanted his money to drill 
 another well. I wanted it because I had faith in that field. 
 I felt I knew there was a great pool of oil there some- 
 where waiting to be discovered and used, and I needed 
 that money to drill more tests with. I had to have it 
 or let the Syndicate run me out of the field I developed, 
 that I made practically. My job wasn't done. I had faith 
 then in the field and in myself I felt I hadn't done jus- 
 tice to the game, and myself. Now I don't care so much. 
 But I do care about being labeled a swindler. They can't 
 make me out that." 
 
 The girl looked up at him. His lean, sun-burned face 
 was turned toward the lake and his closely pursed eyes 
 were staring out over the sunny water and far beyond. 
 She winced as she observed his mouth. The boyishness 
 had gone out of his face. His mouth was hard, hard and 
 bitter, like the mouth of the older men who played the oil 
 game. 
 
 "Why do you say you had faith?" she demanded softly. 
 "Is your faith gone ?" 
 
 "Pretty near," he replied, unmoving. 
 
 "No," she spoke softly; her tone was almost a plea. 
 "Oh, no, no, no!" 
 
 "I beg pardon?" said he. 
 
 "You must not lose faith," she protested. "Oh, no
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 263 
 
 matter what happens, you must not do that. It it hurts 
 so terribly!" 
 
 "How do you know?" he demanded. "Ah! You lost 
 faith in me?" His voice broke and he pleaded hoarsely. 
 "Don't! For your own sake, please. Don't think of me, 
 or how I feel. But don't let yourself be hurt like that. I 
 swear there is no reason for it. Give me time. I will 
 prove it to you." 
 
 "Will you?" she said. 
 
 "I will. I will make them admit " 
 
 "No, no! I don't mean that!" she cried. "Will you 
 keep your faith in yourself, and your work? Just as 
 you had before this happened. Oh, you must. You must 
 justify that faith. Promise me, promise you will !" 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. Her spirit stirred his 
 spirit and roused it out of the slough of despond into 
 which it had sunk. 
 
 "Justify that faith?" he repeated vaguely. 
 
 "Yes, yes. It is too fine to let perish. Too precious. 
 Ah!" Her eyes lighted up as she saw the change that 
 came over his countenance. "I knew it, I knew it ! You 
 haven't lost your faith at all." 
 
 "And you," said Tarrant. "Have you really lost your 
 faith in me?" 
 
 "Prove that you have not lost your faith," she said. 
 "Prove that first." 
 
 "Will that bring back your faith in me?" he asked. 
 
 She would not reply. 
 
 "Is that what you want me to do ?" he said. 
 
 "Yes," she replied promptly. "That is what I want 
 to see. Can't you see can't you understand what it 
 means?"
 
 264 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 That night at the open-air symphony concert at Ravinia 
 Park Marjorie turned suddenly upon her father. 
 
 "I am going back to Tin Spout to-morrow," she an- 
 nounced. "I ordered my reservation this afternoon." 
 
 "Tin Spout?" he exclaimed. "Are you mad, Mar- 
 jorie?" 
 
 "Perhaps," she replied. "But at all events, I am going."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 * I A ARRANT went directly to his lease upon his return 
 * to Tin Spout. The rig was shut down. Buck and 
 Elmer saw him as he came and they recognised that a 
 change had come over their employer. His mere presence 
 galvanised the despondent crew. 
 
 "Get steam up," he ordered briskly. "We will keep on 
 drilling. I know we are deeper than that sand can pos- 
 sibly lay; you needn't trouble to tell me again. That 
 doesn't make any difference. We are still drilling." 
 
 "I reckon you went up North and got some money, eh, 
 Spence," suggested Elmer. 
 
 "Money?" laughed Tarrant. "Why, Elmer, money 
 isn't half as potent in drilling oil wells as what I have got." 
 
 "You ain't been drinking liquor?" 
 
 "No, you old reprobate !" 
 
 "Well, I'm here to say it takes money to make the bull 
 wheel turn," retorted Elmer, "and if you've got something 
 that can beat it for putting holes in the ground you've 
 got something I never see, and I've seen some oil." 
 
 "Have you got any casing coming, Spence?" asked Buck 
 more practically. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Not any?" 
 
 "Not a length, Buck." 
 
 "And still you say we are to start drilling then?" 
 
 "Absolutely," replied Tarrant. 
 
 "It ain't sense," protested the driller. "No casing ! We 
 are asking for a caved hole, you know that." 
 
 265
 
 266 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "I know it, Buck," said Tarrant. "It can't be helped. 
 The important thing is to drill. We haven't got any cas- 
 ing can't get any. If the hole caves on us well, we're 
 going to drill anyway." 
 
 "I see," said Buck. "Playing your luck to the limit." 
 "Something like that," agreed his employer. "Let's 
 
 go." 
 
 The drilling was resumed with infinite care, and Tarrant 
 scrutinised the composition of the frequent bailings 
 closely. There was no change in the formation. The drill 
 was in a stiff clay. This was fortunate under the circum- 
 stances as it was not likely to cave in as they drilled. 
 However, it held no promise of uncovering the porous 
 sand in which the oil is found. 
 
 They were below the 2OOO-foot strata now and by the 
 test of all geological knowledge as well as of practical 
 experience they had drilled to a greater depth than it was 
 possible for an oil sand to exist in that formation. The 
 drillers grumbled at wasted labour. They were being paid 
 well enough and the grub was satisfactory, but they were 
 men with some pride. They did not wish to put in their 
 time on a job after it had been proved a folly. Yet they 
 remained, and the drill went downward. Rough and un- 
 thinking as they were, they had sensed that there was 
 something different about Tarrant's insistence that the 
 drilling continue. They knew that he was better aware 
 than they, or anyone else, that the limit of expectation had 
 been definitely passed. Yet they noticed no weakening 
 on his part. His spirit imparted itself to them. They 
 would see him through. 
 
 The one ray of fortune was that, in spite of the lack of 
 casing, the hole showed no signs of caving. The bailer
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 267 
 
 brought up nothing new. There was no sign of cap rock 
 or oil sand. There was nothing but clay, and there would 
 be no oil in the clay. 
 
 "He's sure a glutton for punishment," said one of the 
 guards at supper one night. "He don't seem to know 
 when he's got enough." 
 
 Buck shook his head. 
 
 "It can't go on," he said. "No man can stand the gaff 
 much longer, not even Tarrant." 
 
 But it did go on. It went on through the remaining 
 days and nights of his option. The day before the thir- 
 teenth dawned, and there was no change in the formation. 
 At noon, with twenty-four hours remaining of the option, 
 a car came jolting up to the lease and Arkansaw, the 
 gambler, was escorted by a guard inside the stockade. 
 
 "Something for you alone, Spence," said the wicked 
 young man. 
 
 Tarrant led the way into his sleeping quarters. 
 
 "You'll be through here at noon to-morrow, I suppose, 
 Spence?" began the gambler. 
 
 "I am afraid so," said Tarrant. 
 
 "Figuring on coming into Tin Spout then?" 
 
 "Look here, Arkansaw !" laughed Tarrant. "What are 
 you going to do, take pity on me and offer me a job? 
 Man, I'm not that broke. I've got the rig yet. I'm a 
 plutocrat." 
 
 "Grogan is in town," said Arkansaw seriously. "He is 
 waiting for you to come in to-morrow. He's gone bad. 
 Shot a lad out at the Club yesterday. He he's talking," 
 
 "Meaning?" suggested Tarrant. 
 
 "Yep. He's announcing to get you," responded the 
 gambler. "Thought you ought to know."
 
 268 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "I'm obliged," said Tarrant politely. 
 
 There was an embarrassed silence. 
 
 "Spence," broke out Arkansaw, "there ain't any real 
 call for you to go down there. That business about No. 5 
 is all understood now. The boys have took back what 
 they thought. Folks know you wouldn't have stuck right 
 here and drilled if you had put that over." 
 
 "I'm obliged for that, too, Arkansaw." 
 
 His gentleness sent a shock through the gambler. 
 
 "Spence! What's the use " he began, but one glance 
 from Tarrant's eyes silenced him. 
 
 "Shake hands, Arkansaw," said Tarrant as they parted. 
 "It was sure friendly of you to come out." 
 
 Tarrant watched the bailing all day, his face a bronzed 
 mask which concealed the emotions struggling within him. 
 As Buck had said, no man could continue to stand the 
 strain. When the last bailer on the day tower was dumped 
 and examined Tarrant stood up and brushed his hands 
 together softly. 
 
 "Well, I tried to justify that faith thing," he said slowly 
 to himself. "Now I am at liberty to attend to that other 
 matter." 
 
 "What's that, boss?" asked Buck. 
 
 "None of your darn business!" laughed Tarrant. A 
 load of responsibility seemed to have fallen from his 
 shoulders. He swung his fist playfully at the driller, with 
 the old reckless leaping into his manner. 
 
 "Your job is drilling this well, feller," he said. "You're 
 hired to stay here till the job is through. That means 
 exactly sixty minutes after eleven o'clock to-morrow noon. 
 Then you can pull your tools and draw your money and 
 go hooch-hunting. Until that fatal moment, party, you
 
 I 
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 269 
 
 keep that drill going. Me, I have got important business 
 matters which I have neglected too long." 
 
 Clean shaven and freshly clad, from shoes to coat, lie 
 mounted Nine Spot and set out for town. 
 
 "I sure did try to justify that faith thing/' he mused 
 as his journey's end came in sight. "Calico hoss, they're 
 waiting for me to come in with my tail between my legs 
 to-morrow. I can't quite see myself doing it, can you? 
 Whoa, you ornery, four-hoofed reptile ! What you shy- 
 ing at? That's only the celebrated oil town of Tin Spout, 
 where we play the last hand in this game and call for a 
 show-down." 
 
 And out at the well at this moment the drill was driving 
 into the long-sought- for limestone cap rock.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 'TMN SPOUT sweltered in its dust at the end of a 
 * scorching day. The sun was setting, but the cloud- 
 less dome of the hot sky still held the light of day, reveal- 
 ing unmercifully the inherent unloveliness of the squalid 
 collection of buildings, which, as the boom oil town of the 
 hour, was nationally famous. And yet, beneath that vast 
 luminous sky and with the hush of sunset heavy upon the 
 earth and the towns thereof, Tin Spout was not hopeless. 
 Its men were a dominant race. Their very indifference 
 to the sordidness of their environment marked them as 
 superior to it. There was strength there. Thin, grave 
 riders from the ranches, their hard, brown faces abnor- 
 mally clean shaven, moved slowly along the boardwalks, 
 the stiffness of their gait betraying the boots concealed 
 beneath their trouser legs. The roughnecks, the operators, 
 the adventurers of the oil fields swarmed in the street, 
 taking their rough masculine leisure after the day's work 
 in the gnawing sun. 
 
 The phrenetic bustle normal to the place was subdued 
 for the while, and men sat on the edge of the sidewalks, 
 smoked slowly, spoke sanely. And then the peace of the 
 moment was gone. Men crowded together, whispered 
 swiftly, stared about excitedly. It was not the excitement 
 of a new well. That excitement usually had its inception 
 to the tune of loud swift words, superfluous profanity and 
 yells. The eyes of men now glittered with the excitement 
 of something more tremendous even than new oil and 
 money. 
 
 270
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 271 
 
 Tarrant was in town. Grogan was looking for him. 
 The news seemed to flash about as if on an electric cur- 
 rent. No one knew who started the story. No one could 
 remember having heard it stated in so many words. It 
 simply was known. 
 
 Tarrant had not entered town by the main street, but 
 had ridden to the livery stable near the old cattle pens 
 practically unobserved. He paid the barn man for Nine 
 Spot's board in advance. 
 
 "If Elmer or Buck come for him they arc to have him," 
 he explained, and buttoning the bottom button of his blue 
 serge coat, he started to walk uptown. His way led past 
 Mrs. Hemp's boarding house. The door was open and 
 Tarrant stopped. Was it a flood of memory that halted 
 him and held him there in fascination ? Then why did he 
 have the sensation of a hand upon his arm? A light 
 hand, a touch that stirred him ! Why did he have a feel- 
 ing that Marjorie Dickinson had caught him by the sleeve? 
 A tremor like a sudden chill ran through him. He looked 
 round with alarmed eyes. 
 
 "That sure was queer," he mused. 
 
 He tried to go on. He could not. He found himself 
 standing at Mrs. Hemp's screen door without knowing- 
 why he had come. And then he was standing face to face 
 with Marjorie and stammering his surprise that she was 
 there. 
 
 "I left Chicago the day after you did," she said. 
 
 She volunteered no explanation. She only studied his 
 face. And his face was set and hard. 
 
 "Oh, what have you done?" she cried. "Why didn't 
 you keep your promise ?" 
 
 A sense of complete failure descended upon him; he
 
 272 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 understood the premonitory chill that had smitten him 
 outside the door. He could not measure up to her. He 
 had aspired to something too fine for him to achieve. His 
 mission in town this evening 1 proved it. 
 
 "I tried," he said. "I couldn't make it." 
 
 ''You tried but you 1iave given up?" she accused. 
 "You have let yourself slip back. Oh, how could you ?" 
 
 Tarrant had nothing to say. He was afraid that if he 
 remained she would see the full darkness into which his 
 soul had descended. He could not alter that. The die 
 was cast. He was what he was; and this being so he 
 must step out of her life. He must do so at once. 
 
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he said 
 harshly. 
 
 "Yes, you do," she insisted. "You know you do. You 
 proved it to me the other day by the lake up in Chicago." 
 
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated. 
 "I haven't got any time for such nonsense. I have got 
 to see a man who is waiting for me." 
 
 "You are going?" she cried incredulously. 
 
 "Yes; this is important." 
 
 "But but why did you come here then?" 
 
 Tarrant looked away. 
 
 "I came to say there was a pretty rough crowd in town 
 to-night," he said. "They're tearing loose. You can't 
 tell what will be doing. I just came to say it would be a 
 good evening to keep off the street.'* 
 
 He turned and smiled upon her as she stared at him 
 in bewilderment. 
 
 "I would stay right here if I were you," he said. "Well 
 so long." 
 
 He backed away, still smiling.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 273 
 
 She did not see, and she could not have imagined, the 
 change that came over his face, like a bitter black cloud 
 dropping over the sun, which took place the instant his 
 back was turned. She seated herself, hopelessly bewil- 
 dered. In spite of the heat she shivered. 
 
 "All alone, honey?" greeted Mrs. Hemp, issuing from 
 the kitchen. "Thought I heard a man's voice in here." 
 
 "Mr. Tarrant was here," said Marjorie. 
 
 "Here. Drink it while it's cold." Mrs. Hemp placed 
 a glass of lemonade before the girl and proceeded to regale 
 herself from another. "That devil Grogan is after Tar- 
 rant," continued the worthy lady as she rocked and sipped. 
 "Men sure are the peskiest things alive." 
 
 Marjorie sat as if numbed. She heard the rocker creak 
 noisily under Mrs. Hemp's generous weight. The last 
 rays of the setting sun slanted through the screen door 
 upon the rug at her feet. For an instant the sunlight was 
 obscured by the passing shadows of two men going down 
 the street. Their low, heavy voices floated distinctly into 
 the quiet, hot room. 
 
 "Wonder if Tarrant knows Grogan is out after him?" 
 spoke one. 
 
 "Reckon he does," drawled the other. "They tell me 
 he's wearing his coat." 
 
 Then they were gone. 
 
 "Ain't you going to drink your lemonade, honey?" 
 asked Mrs. Hemp. "It won't keep cold long in this 
 weather." 
 
 Marjorie stood up. Her knees were trembling. 
 
 "Did you hear what those men said, Mrs. Hemp?" she 
 said.
 
 274 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Oh, men's talk!" was the reply. "I don't pay much 
 attention to them. I always say we women " 
 
 "Will you be kind enough to tell me the significance 
 of Mr. Tarrant wearing his coat this evening?" demanded 
 Marjorie. 
 
 Mrs. Hemp began. "Now, honey, don't you " 
 
 "Did he have a weapon under it?'' asked Marjorie 
 coldly. 
 
 "Why, how should I know, honey?" protested Mrs. 
 Hemp. 
 
 Marjorie was insistent. "Is that why he wore a coat 
 to conceal a weapon ?" she went on. 
 
 "If you gotta know," flared the old ranch woman, "I 
 reckon it is. But don't you go working yourself up into 
 a lather, honey, about men's affairs; they ain't worth it. 
 I always say we women " 
 
 Marjorie said something about "we women" which left 
 Mrs. Hemp shocked and gaping. The girl flared with 
 sudden resolution, and then she felt weak and numb. 
 Her knees threatened to give way, and she attempted to 
 bite her upper lip and found her lips were trembling. 
 
 "You ain't going to faint, honey?" stammered Mrs. 
 Hemp. 
 
 "Faint!" Marjorie stared at the complacent woman 
 furiously. "You sit there and aren't you going to do 
 anything?" 
 
 "Me?" gasped Mrs. Hemp. 
 
 "Aren't you going to try to stop it?" 
 
 "Why, Honey! Them things can't be stopped. Men 
 are built that way." 
 
 A step sounded outside and a tall quiet cowboy pressed 
 his nose against the screen door.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 275 
 
 "Excuse me," said he, "but if Spence Tarrant is here, 
 will you ladies tell him a friend would like to see him." 
 
 "What is it?" demanded Marjorie. 
 
 "Oh, nothing important, lady," was the evasive reply. 
 "I just get a message for him, that's all." 
 
 "What is it? Tell me! I will tell him," she insisted. 
 
 "Tell him," said the cowboy, "to be careful or the 
 marshal might interfere." 
 
 He went away, clumsily touching his heavy sombrero, 
 and Marjorie turned again to Mrs. Hemp. 
 
 "Is that your attitude, too?" she demanded. 
 
 "Honey, it's this way," broke out the woman swiftly, 
 "Spence Tarrant can't let himself be run out of town, and 
 that devil Grogan is out to do it. Ain't that plain and 
 simple? I know it's nothing but fool-boy nonsense and 
 you know it, but men are built to be fools, and they're 
 just bound to have their own way. That Grogan has got 
 a terrible name, I know, but I guess Spence Tarrant can 
 take care of himself no matter who is after him, so there!" 
 
 "Do you realise what you are saying?" said Marjorie. 
 "Do you realise what it means for him to take care of 
 himself?" 
 
 "Why, yes," said Mrs. Hemp, "I do realise it, probably 
 a little better than you do, but I know what you mean. 
 Well, it is wrong, of course, but there are a whole lot of 
 things in this world that are wrong, and I own up I've 
 sort of give up trying to set them right." 
 
 "Why, it's outrageous, it's barbaric!" cried Marjorie 
 "I never dreamed that such things still existed." 
 
 "Honey, I've noticed that about you folks that come 
 from up North," the old woman said. "You sort of seem 
 to have the notion that because a thing didn't exist in your
 
 276 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 life back there it hasn't got any right to exist at all, but 
 I never noticed that what you'uns thought made things 
 any different down here." 
 
 "Tell me," demanded Marjorie, "what I can do to stop 
 it!" 
 
 "It ain't women's business," said Mrs. Hemp firmly. 
 
 "Tell me," insisted the girl. 
 
 "There's just one thing I know of that might be of any 
 use," said the woman, regarding her with a disapproving 
 eye. 
 
 "Tell me tell me!" 
 
 "You might hunt up :>pence Tarrant," was the scorn- 
 ful reply, "and ask him to tuck his tail between his legs 
 and get out of town so Grogan can't find him. But you 
 won't do that, because you got sense. And it wouldn't 
 do any good if you did." 
 
 Tarrant slowly retraced his steps to the livery stable. 
 The accusing look in Marjorie's eyes had shaken him. 
 He could not flee. That was out of the question. By 
 all the tenets of his code, or the code of the men whom 
 he called friends, that was forbidden. Neither could he 
 seek Grogan now. That, too, was forbidden by the influ- 
 ence she held upon him. 
 
 At the barn he upended a water bucket and seated him- 
 self with his back to the wall. He knew that it would not 
 be long until the news of his presence there had been cir- 
 culated, and he believed that his wait would not be long. 
 A man came slipping round the corner presently and Tar- 
 rant, instantly tensed, relaxed as he recognised the figure 
 of the cowboy who had sought him at Mrs. Hemp's. For 
 a moment there was no word spoken. The cowboy scruti-
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 277 
 
 niscd the left side of Tarrant's coat and strove to decide 
 what might be hidden underneath, 
 
 "You are hooked up all right, ain't you, Spence," he 
 asked finally. 
 
 Tarrant nodded and said : "This is no place for a cow- 
 boy just now, son." 
 
 "Don't I know it?" was the reply. "JBut I was sent." 
 
 "Who sent you?" 
 
 "Ol' Arkansaw." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Arkansaw told me to move fast and sudden and give 
 you the word that Grogan is holed up somewhere on Main 
 Street." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Arkansaw didn't say. Said just tell you that. Your 
 judgment was good, he says." 
 
 Tarrant nodded again, and looked down at the rider's 
 high-heeled boots. 
 
 "Cowboy feet, travel," said he curtly. 
 
 "Adios, Spence," said the cowboy, moving on. 
 
 "So long," was the response. 
 
 Over on Main Street the news of Grogan's manceuver, 
 which through some mysterious channel had reached the 
 ears of Arkansaw, had spread swiftly and had occasioned 
 surprise. Grogan's reputation was such that men had 
 expected something better of him. Anybody could hide 
 out and get a man. Grogan had been expected to show 
 Tarrant up, which was a more complex and delicate mat- 
 ter altogether. Disappointment was expressed by the 
 more garrulous. As the final moments of daylight began 
 to draw to a close with no denouement of the promised 
 drama this disappointment spread. The tension which
 
 278 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 had stilled the troublous night life of Tin Spout gradually 
 slackened. Men began to talk loudly and excitedly of 
 other things. The Oil Exchange and other gambling 
 places began to draw their quota of patrons. Pool balls 
 clicked, and in Chili Joe's there was a clamour and clatter 
 of dishes. Talkative men swore unnecessarily and offered 
 to bet it wouldn't come off; others shrugged their shoul- 
 ders and turned to other affairs. 
 
 And then Grogan was suddenly seen crossing Main 
 Street as he hurried toward a side street which led to the 
 rear of the livery stable. There was a deadly elation in 
 his gait; his manner was the grimly pleased manner of 
 a man who has had information which places the enemy 
 in his power. The crowd swarmed tow r ard the barn, and 
 then suddenly it scattered like sheep from a wolf, for 
 Grogan had crouched in the middle of the muddy street, 
 drawn his weapon and aimed at a tall figure in blue that 
 was stalking toward him from the other end of the block. 
 
 Tarrant merely stopped. He did not crouch or move. 
 His hands hung at his side. His face was like a mask. 
 
 Grogan stared for a moment in complete bewilderment. 
 Then a yelp of triumph issued from his throat and his 
 teeth were bared. 
 
 "Get out of town, you four-flusher!" he growled, run- 
 ning forward to close pistol range. "I've got you now. 
 Caught you asleep. You're busted. You're a bum, and 
 I'm kicking you out of town. Get out. Travel on or 
 I'll hand it to you now!" 
 
 In the Bon Ton Pool Parlor the marshal crashed sense- 
 less to the floor from the blow of a cue; and from corners, 
 doors and windows, from every sheltered point of vantage, 
 heads jutted and staring eyes beheld the drama in the
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 279 
 
 street. Tarrant stood still. The sight of the oncoming 
 gunman with his upraised weapon apparently made no 
 impression. A loose-mouthed fool cried out: 
 
 "The mutt hasn't got a gun!" and another urged Tar- 
 rant to run. 
 
 Grogan was close now. A sneer of triumph distorted 
 his whole face, for even now Tarrant made no movement. 
 Like a tiger making sure of his leap, Grogan poised him- 
 self within deadly range. 
 
 "I'll count three," he snarled, "I'll give you that long 
 to travel. One two " 
 
 Men whose experiences qualified them to judge such 
 affairs averred it was the fastest thing they had ever seen. 
 So fast was it that there promptly arose a variety of opin- 
 ions as to just what happened. It was universally agreed, 
 however, that Grogan fired instantly upon his utterance 
 of the word "two." No one was found who pretended 
 to have heard him say "three." Opinion at first inclined 
 to the belief that he had shot high. The more calm and 
 accurate analysis that followed showed that Tarrant had 
 gauged the treachery in Grogan's mind to the fraction of 
 a second and at the word "two" had flung himself to the 
 right. At the same time he had drawn the gun under the 
 left breast of his coat and fired so swiftly that the roar 
 of his volley seemed a continuation of Grogan's first shot. 
 
 Grogan fired again, but the bullet went into the mud 
 at his feet. Tarrant stopped shooting. Grogan came on 
 for a few steps more. Opposite the establishment of 
 Chili Joe he came to a dead stop. He seemed undecided, 
 but suddenly he came to an apparent decision, and drop- 
 ping his revolver he staggered for the promise of shelter 
 offered by Chili Joe's screen door.
 
 280 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 Someone laughed and jibed: "Lost his nerve!" 
 
 But Grogan had lost more than his nerve. He plunged 
 across the sidewalk and staggered headlong into the 
 screen. There his legs bent under him and he fell and 
 came to a rest with his head on the threshold of the store. 
 
 "We've got Tarrant just the same!" Bodine's voice 
 from the fringe of the crowd rang triumphantly. "Go 
 ahead there; go on and take him!" 
 
 Men advanced upon Tarrant. He saw them display 
 stars and he passed over his gun. 
 
 "Take him to jail at once!" 
 
 Bodine was giving orders with a complete assurance of 
 being obeyed. 
 
 "Come along," said an officer. "Come on !" 
 
 Tarrant saw Bodine's face above the crowd. The pro- 
 moter's expression was one of cunning and triumph. Then 
 the crowd pushed forward and Tarrant was led away.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A DILAPIDATED flivver bearing a rough-looking 
 ** man rolled out of Tin Spout a few minutes after 
 the shooting. The car went northward. It left the Tin 
 Spout field and came to the line of the 88 Lease. Here, 
 for apparently no good reason, it swung off the well- 
 defined road which continued straight northward and went 
 jolting over the rough soil toward the gate in the stockade 
 surrounding Tarrant's well. 
 
 Buck and Elmer and the rest of the crew were appar- 
 ently loafing. They had pulled the tools from the hole 
 and swung them above the casing, and by the light of a 
 gasoline flare they were excitedly studying the contents 
 of the bailer which had been poured into the slush pool. 
 
 "We must send for Spence," said Buck ; and then they 
 heard and saw the car at the gate in the stockade. 
 
 A guard stepped forth and held up his hand. The 
 driver came to a halt within easy speaking distance. 
 
 "This the way to Colson's Ranch?" he called. 
 
 It was not the way. Elmer told him so. Had he kept 
 on the main road he would have come to the Colson Ranch 
 in short order. He was off the road. 
 
 The driver swore good-humoredly. 
 
 "That's what I figured," said he, "but the garage man 
 told me to hit off in here and I'd save time. Just keep on 
 north on the main road, you say?" 
 
 "That's right," said Elmer. 
 
 "All right, thanks." The driver prepared to turn round. 
 
 "S'pose you heard the news ?" he said casually. 
 
 281
 
 282 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "We ain't heard anything," saM Elmer. "What is it 
 somebody bring in a gusher ?" 
 
 "Don't kid me," said the man. 
 
 "Price of crude gone up?" 
 
 "Do you mean to say you haven't heard?" demanded 
 the visitor. "No," he added with a look round ; "I guess 
 you wouldn't be here if you'd heard, considering you fel- 
 lows make a play at being his friends, which he certainly 
 could use a few right now, I'm thinking." 
 
 There was a chilled silence of several seconds. 
 
 "You ain't talking about the boss?" demanded Elmer. 
 
 "Shore am." 
 
 "Tarrant " 
 
 "He shot Grogan down to Tin Spout this evening." 
 
 "Kill him?" 
 
 "Not quite. Plumb ruined his health, though." 
 
 "I figured he'd kill him dead sometime," said Elmer. 
 "Did he get touched up any himself?" 
 
 The talebearer shook his head. 
 
 "No," he said slowly. "From what I hear of it, they 
 claim he didn't give Grogan any chance. That's why I 
 heard folks was so against him down there. 'Course I'm 
 a stranger to you boys round here, and I never knew Tar- 
 rant from an owl, but I sort of rigger a man's friends 
 ought to be told when he's in a bad fix, no matter what 
 folks say against him. They've got Tarrant in jail down 
 there to Tin Spout and Grogan's friends are talking 
 mean." 
 
 "How mean are they talking?" asked Elmer after a 
 pause. 
 
 "Pretty mean," said the man, shaking his head. 
 
 "Go on," said Elmer.
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 283 
 
 "They are talking of getting him before the rangers 
 come," said the man. "They are talking of taking him 
 out of jail to-night." 
 
 There was another pause. 
 
 "Thank you, suh," said Elmer. "We're sure obliged." 
 
 "Of course I don't know it's only what I heard talked 
 of," said the man as he drove on. 
 
 "We're sure obliged to you," said Elmer. 
 
 The mud-covered flivver jolted back to the main road 
 and turned north. It continued on its course until a dip 
 in the road hid it from the well. Then the lights were 
 switched off and the car swung off the road and came to 
 a standstill. The driver leaped out and ran swiftly to a 
 point where he could see and hear what was going on at 
 the well. 
 
 Buck had moved before the talebearer was out of sight. 
 His first action was to crank his car. In another moment 
 the crew and the guards were struggling for room in the 
 car or on the running boards. 
 
 "Mebbe somebody ought to stay on the lease," suggested 
 Elmer dubiously. 
 
 "Lease, hell!" growled a guard. "You heard what he 
 said, didn't you?" 
 
 "Bodine's gang will all be busy in town," said Buck. 
 
 "I reckon," said Elmer. "Let's go!" 
 
 Buck drove with a recklessness which tested the little 
 car to the utmost, and they paid no attention to the tour- 
 ing car, laden with men, which started westward as they 
 parked the flivver within the glare of Tin Spout's lights. 
 They attracted some attention as they plowed their way 
 through the crowds toward the frame shack with an iron 
 cage inside which served as Tin Spout's lockup, for they
 
 284 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 had been recognised promptly, and their faces were hard 
 with recklessness. They came to an abrupt halt at the 
 door of the jail. A small, bow-legged and tired-looking 
 man with a long, drooping moustache barred the way. 
 
 "You gents was wanting something?" said he sugges- 
 tively. 
 
 "A ranger !" exclaimed Buck. "Then they've come." 
 
 "Shore have," piped the little man. "I am them." 
 
 "Only one of you?" said Buck. 
 
 "Hell !" retorted the ranger. "They ain't but one pris- 
 oner, is they?" 
 
 "Is he all right?" demanded Elmer. 
 
 The ranger tilted his head back slowly until at last his 
 eyes rested upon Elmer's face. 
 
 "Gosh a-whistling !" said he. "I did think for awhile 
 I never would see the top of your carcass. Well, old- 
 timer, I like nerve, but impudence don't set so well with 
 me. Who gave you license to ask if my prisoner is all 
 right? Don't you see I'm here ?" 
 
 "We did hear some talk about a lynching," persisted 
 Elmer. 
 
 "You ain't telling me?" said the ranger. "Shore, now, 
 ain't it a sin the way folks will talk careless ? They don't 
 want to let me catch 'em at it. It's against the laws of 
 the state of Texas." 
 
 "Yes," said Buck, "but this is Bodine's town, and Gro- 
 gan was his gunman and Bodine is after Tarrant." 
 
 "Now let me tell you something, son," snapped the 
 ranger; "this may have been Bodine's town up to about 
 an hour ago, but at that time it came under the hand and 
 rule of the state of Texas represented by the person of 
 yours truly, and I'm doing the dealing at present; and
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 285 
 
 Bodine ain't setting in, and you boys ain't setting in, and 
 by midnight there'll be four more rangers here and if we 
 hear any more of this wicked talk we're going to lose pa- 
 tience. I'm taking care of the prisoner named Tarrant. 
 His lawyer has been to see him. That's all, boys. You 
 got permission to jog right along." 
 
 Elmer excused himself for a moment and slipped alone 
 down to Bodine's office. The office was deserted. He 
 went to the Oil Exchange, where business continued as 
 usual, and thrusting the fat manager aside, mounted the 
 platform. 
 
 "I'm looking for a parry called Bodine," said the old 
 fellow quietly. "Anybody happen to see him round?" 
 
 "Mr. Bodine is not here," said the manager. 
 
 "All right, hombre," retorted Elmer, "but don't roll 
 your fat eyes at me, because I'm touchy to-night and I 
 might go off. I reckon plenty of Bodine's gang are here," 
 he continued quietly to the crowd, "and I want them to 
 tell their boss I'll let him live on one condition : that Spence 
 Tarrant gets a fair deal. If he don't, I'll kill Mr. Bodine." 
 
 Having delivered his message he stepped down from 
 the platform and left the room. Outside the doorway he 
 almost collided with Marjorie. The girl stared at him 
 with alarm in her eyes. 
 
 "You in town!" she gasped. "Oh, Elmer! But the 
 other men are at the well, surely?" 
 
 A chill passed through Elmer's spare frame. 
 
 "What do you mean, Miss Marjorie?" he stamnered. 
 "No, the boys are all with me gosh-a-mighty, you don't 
 
 mean they " He began to tremble with anger. "If 
 
 they have," he began, but she cut him short
 
 286 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "You must get back at once !" she cried. "Get the men. 
 I will get a fast car. Oh, hurry, hurry !" 
 
 There was little said as they raced out of town in a 
 large service car. Marjorie sat beside the driver and she 
 leaned forward, striving to pierce the darkness ahead. The 
 others followed her example. The fear that they had 
 fallen into a trap closed their lips. They might have 
 cursed themselves, but the presence of the girl in the front 
 seat prevented. 
 
 "What was that?" cried Marjorie, as the sound of an 
 explosion shattered the night. 
 
 No one answered. The car swung over a rise, bringing 
 them within view of the well site. 
 
 The tale of what had happened during their absence 
 was writ red in the heavens which softly reflected the glow 
 from the burning buildings and rig of Well No. 6. The 
 derrick was in flames, its burning skeleton outlined against 
 the dark. The ruins of the other buildings smoldered 
 brightly. The explosion had apparently been in the boiler 
 house, for fresh flames were rising about the ruined ma- 
 chinery. Figures of men were seen running away. A 
 high-powered car thrummed some place in the darkness 
 and raced out of hearing. By the time the service car 
 reached the site it was deserted and only the flames and 
 wreckage testified to the fact that men had swarmed about 
 the well but a few minutes before. 
 
 Buck ran in beneath the flaming derrick and out again. 
 
 "The hole is all right," he panted. "They didn't touch 
 it. Saving it for the Syndicate, I suppose." 
 
 "The option expires at noon to-morrow!" cried Mar- 
 jorie. "Oh, is there nothing to be done?"
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 287 
 
 "Yes," said Elmer, "and I'm going back and find Bodine 
 and do it now !" 
 
 The girl caught him by the arm. 
 
 "Will that save the well for Mr. Tarrant?" she de- 
 manded. "Will it do him any good? Think! You left 
 here to-night because you wanted to help him. Nobody 
 can blame you for that. But now he needs your help, too. 
 Oh, if I could only do something! Surely you can do 
 something. The well was nearly completed, wasn't it? 
 Is there no way to go on to finish drilling?" 
 
 As if in answer to her question the burning derrick 
 buckled and sagged and crashed to the ground with a roar. 
 
 "You must do something!" cried the girl, undaunted. 
 "I won't believe that it is hopeless, not even now. I won't, 
 I won't!" 
 
 "There's just one chance," cried Buck, spurred by her 
 words. "They didn't know we were through the cap rock. 
 We'll put in a big shot in the morning. It is a poor bet, 
 but it's all we can do." 
 
 "What does that mean ?" demanded Marjorie. 
 
 "It just means," drawled Elmer, "that I won't look up 
 Bodine until to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 TN the jail at Tin Spout that night Tarrant lay on a 
 cot staring up at the barred ceiling. It was hot outside 
 that night, and in the jail the air was stifling. A high- 
 j acker who had held up a restaurant occupied the cell on 
 his right; in the cage to his left was incarcerated a boot- 
 legger who had knifed a deputy. The heat tortured them, 
 and they grumbled and moaned and cursed constantly. 
 Rambling protests of innocence, of double-crossing, rolled 
 from their lips, and alternately and together they made the 
 night hideous. 
 
 Tarrant was silent. He lay on his cot in a mood of 
 resignation. Through his mind there ran a film which 
 embraced all that seemed important in his life. The film 
 began with his first sight of Marjorie Dickinson at the 
 depot of Tin Spout; it ended abruptly with the clang of 
 the cell door as it shut him in. He saw in the darkness 
 above his head her face as he had first beheld it, fine and 
 beautiful and ablaze with indignation over the treatment 
 of the pony, Nine Spot. He lived over the scenes in which 
 she had been involved; the brief moment that evening on 
 the Stringer Roof; the night at the Country Club; the 
 evening when she had come to warn him that Bodine was 
 after the 88 Lease. He saw also the scene when he had 
 picked her up brutally and kissed her. It didn't matter 
 now. They had got him. What might have been was 
 only a dream. It could never come true. But it was well 
 to have dreamed. 
 
 288
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 289 
 
 "Tarrant," said the little ranger softly. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Tarrant listlessly. 
 
 "You all right?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You were so danged quiet," explained the officer, "I 
 wasn't sure. I guess you ain't in so wrong, after all." 
 
 "How come?" asked Tarrant disinterestedly. 
 
 "Well, they tell me that party you nicked ain't going 
 out," said the ranger. "You crippled him up so he won't 
 do any more gun throwing, but they claim he will make 
 a live of it." 
 
 "It was an even break," declared Tarrant, "but they 
 will have the court, so that won't count." 
 
 "Mebbe," was the reply. "Your lawyer's fixing to bail 
 you in the morning." 
 
 "Thanks," said Tarrant casually. 
 
 The news did not greatly excite him. A load of hope- 
 lessness lay heavily upon his spirit. He knew there could 
 be nothing between him and Marjorie after this. Her 
 code of life embraced no comprehension of the code of 
 life as he lived it. To her the affair with Grogan could 
 be only a lawless shooting affray. She had warned him, 
 and he had the opportunity to avoid it by going away. 
 Of course he couldn't do that. Everybody would under- 
 stand, except the one whose opinion mattered. In his 
 mood of depression he saw himself outlawed, stamped 
 with the brand of the violent criminal. With her gentle- 
 ness, her sweetness, how could she see him otherwise? 
 On the other hand, Bodine would appear in the light in 
 which he had consistently sought to picture himself in 
 Mar j one's eyes the powerful, orderly business man in 
 competition with a reckless ruffian.
 
 290 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 "Ruffian," whispered Tarrant. "That's the word." 
 
 So the dream ended. It was his own fault, the fault 
 of his breeding and his life which had made it impossible 
 for him to conform to her code. All things considered, 
 it had been presumptuous, as her father declared, for him 
 to aspire to any association with her. She was a fine 
 spirit. A creature of another plane. He was only a 
 boss roughneck of the oil fields, as hard and rough as 
 any man in the game. The sense of frustrated youth, 
 youth that had hoped and dreamed of something finer, 
 stirred him a little, but it was only a flutter. He was 
 beaten. He saw no light in the future. The incentive 
 to struggle had gone out of him. Even the thoughts of 
 Bodine and his victory failed to bring back his nerve. 
 
 He was released from jail in the forenoon. His law- 
 yer's optimism and fighting spirit failed to find any re- 
 sponse in him. 
 
 "I'm sure obliged, Al, for your hustling so early," he 
 said; "it could have waited, though." 
 
 "Waited, nothing!" snapped the lawyer. "If you knew 
 half of what's been happening this night you'd snap out 
 of it. Talk about hustling early! Do you think I had 
 any sleep last night ? I should say not. I've had the gov- 
 ernor on the long distance. I've got a Department of 
 Justice man headed this way right now. They're going 
 to know they have been in a fight, Spence ; I promise you 
 that." 
 
 "That's fine of you, Al," said Tarrant dully. 
 
 "I was only the instrument," said the lawyer. "Some- 
 body else gave me the information that is going to be the 
 big surprise to them."
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 291 
 
 "I'm sure much obliged," repeated Tarrant. "You 
 don't need me right now, Al ?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I figure I'll go out to the lease," replied Tarrant. "I'll 
 have to take down my rig." 
 
 The lawyer's expression of fighting optimism vanished 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Why, I don't believe I would do that, Spence," he said 
 with assumed carelessness. "Better stay round with me. 
 Come to think of it, I do need you. Sure, we have got to 
 get together in my office and put our evidence in shape and 
 outline the case." 
 
 Tar rant's numbed mind barely managed to catch the 
 note of well-intentioned falseness in the attorney's re- 
 marks. He did not comprehend at first and stood staring 
 stupidly at the man of law. Gradually his faculties 
 awakened. 
 
 "What's -wrong, Al ?" he asked in a new tone. 
 
 "Wrong?" repeated the lawyer evasively. "Who said 
 there was anything wrong?" 
 
 "What's wrong at the lease?" cried Tarrant. His eyes 
 flashed again, and youth and strength came creeping back 
 into his drawn face. 
 
 "I wouldn't go out to the lease just now, Spence," said 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "Out -with it!" roared Tarrant. "Come across." 
 
 "Somebody jumped your lease last night," came the 
 reply. "Elmer and Buck and the crew were drawn to 
 town by a report that you were in danger. The outfit was 
 in flames when they got back." 
 
 Tarrant drew the first full breath he had taken since
 
 292 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 the shooting. His great lungs swelled and his nostrils 
 distended. 
 
 "Bodine !" he murmured. 
 
 The lethargy which the night had induced fell from him 
 like a discarded cloak. His lips tightened and his breath 
 came and went rapidly. Then he laughed. The lawyer 
 started and drew away. 
 
 "Bodine!" said Tarrant. "He's made a clean sweep 
 of me. He beat me out with the girl; he jailed me; and 
 he busted me flat. He said he would do it, and he has. 
 But he did it wrong. He didn't play fair. I don't blame 
 the boys. Bodine knew they would come to town. The 
 dirty hound!" 
 
 He went down the street with his head up and smiling. 
 The contentment of desperation was upon him. He had 
 lost all, therefore he had nothing to lose. He felt he had 
 nothing to win, either. Only he craved one moment, one 
 moment alone -with Bodine, Bodine within reach of his 
 bare hands. 
 
 The door of the office was open. Tarrant entered with 
 the lightness of a cat. A clerk rose to question him. With 
 a swift jerk Tarrant threw him outside and stepped in. 
 Bodine turned from his desk with a feline instinct of 
 danger. Tarrant laughed. 
 
 "The show-down, Bodine!" he cried. "No! With our 
 bare hands!" 
 
 With a leap he hurled himself across the room and 
 caught the hand that had slipped into an open drawer. 
 The shot that Bodine fired went into the desk, and Tar- 
 rant wrested the gun from him and hurled it through the 
 window. 
 
 "Bare hands, Bodine !" he roared. "That's all I've got
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 293 
 
 left now ; you've taken all the rest ; and that's how we'll 
 play the show-down!" 
 
 Bodine had recovered promptly from the moment of 
 panic into which Tarrant's startling appearance had 
 thrown him. His face became tigerish. The pose of the 
 suave promoter was cast aside. He was himself now, 
 frankly, Bodine the gambler. 
 
 "You damned roughneck!" he barked. "You damned 
 pauper !" 
 
 "I've still got my bare hands, Bodine!" 
 
 "You will have it, eh?" roared Bodine. 
 
 He feinted with the skill of the experienced fighter he 
 was and struck. Tarrant took it and laughed. Another 
 blow dropped him over a chair and he kicked the broken 
 pieces away and laughed again. He ducked inside a blow 
 and caught Bodine in his arms. For seconds they strained 
 chest to chest and eye to eye and the panting of the crowd 
 at the door was audible in the silence. Slowly Bodine 
 gave ground. Snarling and spitting like a cat he strove 
 to tear himself away. Tarrant put all the strength of his 
 body into a heave and threw his opponent the length of 
 the room. Bodine rebounded like a rubber ball. His 
 rage was frightful. All thoughts of scientific fighting had 
 fled from his mind, and he fought like a beast, elemental, 
 primitive in his frantic efforts to hurt and cripple. 
 
 Tarrant fought back with a recklessness that told how 
 little he asked of the future. His hardness of body and 
 his youth alone saved him. He paid no more attention 
 to Bodine's brutal kicks than he did to his blows. He let 
 his head slip into a chancery for the privilege of driving 
 a blind swing into Bodine's face. 
 
 He was too strong and too desperate. Bodine broke
 
 294 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 free and sought to keep him away. Like a force which 
 nothing could hurt or stop, Tarrant pursued him. Blows 
 stopped him in his tracks with the suddenness of a bullet 
 and he rocked on his heels, and came on. 
 
 "The show-down, Bodine," he panted. "With bare 
 hands!" 
 
 Bodine summoned all his strength and skill for one 
 ultimate onslaught. His rush carried Tarrant back across 
 the room and against the wall. Bodine struck till he was 
 arm weary. He stepped back. The tottering figure 
 against the wall lurched forward. 
 
 "The show-down !" it mumbled. 
 
 Bodine's nerve broke. He turned to flee by the door. 
 Old Man Swanson threw him back. Tarrant vaguely 
 distinguished his lawyer and a stranger behind Swanson, 
 but he did not care. 
 
 He came slowly across the room and caught Bodine by 
 the throat. He bent him back inch by inch over a table. 
 His fist was raised to strike, and then, without releasing 
 his hold, he paused and threw up his head. 
 
 The crowd outside had suddenly assumed the same atti- 
 tude. There was a whistling sound in the air, as if of a 
 pent-up hurricane venting itself through a small pipe, a 
 sound weird and uncanny to the stranger, but rife with a 
 throbbing tale to these oilmen. The sound grew in vol- 
 ume; it was the shriek of an imprisoned gale fighting to 
 free itself. It came from the north. It rose to an incred- 
 ible pitch and then it died away. 
 
 A girl came running out of the telephone exchange. It 
 was Marjorie. 
 
 "They did it they did it!" she cried. "It's No. 6! 
 Buck and Elmer put a shot in as a last resort, and brought
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 295 
 
 in a gusher. I had Colson's Ranch on the 'phone, and 
 they say they can see it, and the oil the oil is spouting 
 a hundred feet high!" 
 
 Tarrant spoke faintly : 
 
 "What time is it, Air* 
 
 "Eleven ten," came the reply. "Tarrant, it's yours !" 
 
 Tarrant let fall his upraised fist and released his hold. 
 
 "The show-down, Bodine!" he cried in triumph. "You 
 can go." 
 
 "He cannot!" snapped the stranger beside Tarrant's 
 lawyer. "I want him for violating the postal law " 
 
 "To hell with the law!" cried the crowd. "Didn't you 
 hear? A gusher oil a hundred feet high!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 N SPOUT poured itself northward. The 88 Lease 
 had become an irresistible magnet. An outpouring 
 of motor cars which soon reached halfway to the lease 
 was on the road before Marjorie had told the story which 
 she had waited tensely all morning to hear over the 'phone. 
 The air was alive with the throb of cars starting away; 
 the road was hidden beneath a cloud of dust. Each car 
 carried its full load, and after the cars were all gone, 
 motor trucks were called into service. A few riders on 
 ponies followed the trucks and then came the horse-drawn 
 vehicles and, last of all, a straggling crowd on foot, all 
 bent upon beholding with their own eyes the new miracle 
 which had blown all other interests out of the life of Tin 
 Spout as a puff of wind blows out a candle. 
 
 Tin Spout was starting anew. There was a new force 
 on the scene and the air was electric with the sudden 
 change. Soon the forerunners of the crowd were within 
 sight of the well, and they gasped and cheered. Above 
 the casing a solid column of oil was shooting high in the 
 air and breaking into a plume and splattering itself upon 
 the landscape. The odour of fresh oil was in the air. The 
 crowd stood by and looked in awe at the fortune that was 
 pouring up from the earth. It was a new force in the 
 world, a power released for the service of man. Men 
 and women quickened to new life as they gazed at it, a 
 rich dark column of new clean wealth, a veritable geyser 
 of thick, black oil. 
 
 296
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 297 
 
 Tarrant was the oilman instantly. He sat in Bodine's 
 office and gave orders. A cap and a gate for use -when 
 the flow had subsided sufficiently to permit control of the 
 flood of oil went out on one of the first trucks. He gave 
 contracts for storage tanks and engaged men by the score 
 to hasten out and build a dike about the well to hold the 
 oil until the tanks could be constructed. Men rushed to 
 seek his orders and to execute them. He was the owner 
 of a gusher. He looked about the office. The room was 
 wrecked, but more than that, it had already assumed the 
 air of a place whose day has passed and which has been 
 discarded and abandoned. A framed certificate of Pan- 
 National stock was in the litter upon the floor. Someone's 
 heel had crushed through it ruthlessly. 
 
 And when the crowded day was done, and his triumph 
 as an oil man assured beyond any possible doubt, and the 
 softness of dusk usurped the glare of day, Tarrant broke. 
 The hard mask of purposeful determination fell away 
 from his countenance. The grim fighting man, hurling 
 himself instantly into the struggle to make his victory se- 
 cure, vanished. In the moment of his triumph when his 
 name was upon all lips as the man of the hour, as the Win- 
 ner, he faltered and gave way. No one knew the tension 
 he laboured under during the afternoon ; no one suspected 
 the tumult of reborn emotions, of glimmering hope, of 
 anguish, of black despair, which he fought down, smoth- 
 ered and kept concealed as he met the demands of his 
 good fortune. True friends would have slapped him upon 
 the back, sycophants would have fawned upon him; but 
 they regarded the grimness of his expression and let him 
 alone. He heard whispered comments "Hard as steel" 
 and he hid beneath his mask of hardness the bitterness
 
 298 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 that the words evoked. He saw the job through, saw it 
 through with an expert's completeness of detail, and no 
 one suspected the turmoil, the fear, the weakness, that 
 agitated his heart. 
 
 Where he went now he was the centre of an excited 
 throng. Inured as the people were to miraculously sud- 
 den rises to fortune they were, nevertheless, eager for the 
 thrill of reflected glory to be achieved about the person 
 of a new magnate. They swarmed to Tarrant. And in 
 the evening's crowds which gathered about him there was 
 no man fainter of heart or more apprehensive of the fu- 
 ture than the man whom all envied. The depression which 
 had so darkened his few hours in jail was still with Tar- 
 rant, and the conviction was upon him that he had proved 
 himself unworthy to hope for the finer things which he 
 had glimpsed in the presence of Marjorie. After all that 
 was what he had striven for. He realised this fully, now 
 that the material rewards of his struggle were assured. 
 He had, as an oil-man, been determined to justify his faith 
 in himself and in the existence of the great pool of oil 
 in the Tin Spout field. He had been out to reap the 
 riches which inevitably would be the due of the man who 
 should discover the pool. This day he had fulfilled both 
 these objects. He had been true to his faith, and he had 
 gained what men called success. And now he knew that 
 beneath these aims had been a stronger force, and it was 
 this force which had driven him on. The instinct to ad- 
 vance, not materially alone, but in Life, the yearning for 
 a finer existence, for ideals above which he had known 
 this was the urge that had held him steadfastly to the 
 course of ambition. He had come far, from cowboy to 
 oil king, and he was still young. But the sense of doom
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 299 
 
 was upon his spirit. He felt he could go no further in 
 the things that mattered to him, could not achieve any- 
 thing better. His spirit groped imploringly for a new 
 faith, but the affray with Grogan rose up in his mind and 
 damned him. In the bitterness of the moment he cursed 
 the fate that had given him the vision to see and to crave 
 something finer. 
 
 He took advantage of the first shades of night to lose 
 himself from the eager crowds and to wander alone in the 
 empty darkness about the town. He found himself upon 
 the railway right of way south of town, and he looked 
 back at Tin Spout's lights, wishful to put them far behind 
 him. The excitement which thralled the place seemed to 
 charge the atmosphere about it. Men were talking wildly 
 back there ; and his name, enviously uttered, was upon all 
 lips. 
 
 He turned and shambled back over the ties and came 
 to the old shipping-pens and the livery stable where he 
 had left Nine Spot. He roused himself from his mood as 
 he heard the pony's hoofs beating a fretful tattoo in his 
 stall. The stableman was not to be seen. Tarrant fed 
 and watered the neglected animal but the grateful whinny- 
 ing of Nine Spot failed to touch him. He stood stock- 
 still and entirely unresponsive while the pony nuzzled his 
 arm. A strange sort of courage had arisen within him 
 and he was icy cold. 
 
 "I've got to see her," he said aloud. "J ust see her." 
 
 When he moved it seemed through no volition of his 
 own; it was as if an extraneous force moved the reluctant 
 body along the dark side street toward the home of the 
 "Deaf" Hemps where Marjorie was stopping. So it hap- 
 pened that he all but ran into her before he was conscious
 
 30O Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 that anyone was approaching, and when he saw her he 
 felt it must be a fantasy, a figment of his disordered mind 
 that stood before him. She, too, stopped abruptly, and 
 they stood silently looking at one another from a dis- 
 tance. Tarrant finally moved toward her, slowly, incred- 
 ulously. Marjorie did not move, but only looked at him ; 
 and suddenly the darkness seemed shattered for Tarrant, 
 and he saw her in a flash of light. He drew the back of 
 his hand tremblingly across his eyes as if to test his 
 vision. 
 
 "I I have just been down to fix up Nine Spot," he 
 said weakly. 
 
 "I was going there to see to him," said she simply, but 
 she made no move to turn back. 
 
 Tarrant fought with himself to achieve a moment of 
 his wonted self-control; he tried to speak calmly, but calm 
 words would not come at all ; only there came an inarticu- 
 late cry: 
 
 "Marjorie!" 
 
 'And at the tale of pain and anguish and yearning which 
 the cry told the girl threw out her hands and moaned: 
 "Spence!" And he reached for her hands fumblingly, 
 and when he held them she leaned back, her upturned eyes 
 wet with tears, and then with a queer, happy sob, she cast 
 herself forward upon the shelter of his bosom. 
 
 Tarrant held her off, his hands upon her shoulders. 
 
 "You you mean it?" he protested. "You you are 
 sure you know what you're doing?" 
 
 She smiled as she looked up at him. The smile wiped 
 away all doubts, all need for words. His amazement was 
 still great but it did not affect the manner in which his
 
 Tar rant of Tin Spout 301 
 
 long arms gathered her to him and lifted her up until their 
 yearning lips met. 
 
 "One thing I'd like to get straight, Honey," said Tar- 
 rant a few evenings later as she sat upon his knee in the 
 darkened parlor of the Hemps, "is when you first got it 
 into your head that maybe some day I'd do to take along? 
 Was it after I came up to see you that day in Chicago?" 
 
 "That was nice, wasn't it, dear, that day by the lake?" 
 she responded. 
 
 Tarrant chuckled as he drew her closer and kissed her. 
 
 "You're not telling, is that it, Honey?" he whispered. 
 
 "Why do you want to know ?" she demanded. 
 
 "It's this way, Honey," he continued, "I reasoned that 
 I had made such a bad. impression on you that there was 
 no hope for me; and the only time I can think of when 
 it might have been different was up North that time. But 
 that wasn't enough to make you want to marry me, was 
 it?" 
 
 "It didn't hurt your case any," she said, stroking his 
 brown cheek. "It made me think more highly of you, 
 I think. But it was before that." 
 
 "When was it?" he urged. "When did you first 
 think ?" 
 
 "I didn't think, Spence," she interrupted. 
 
 "I'll never tell you," she protested, drawing his face 
 down against her's. "Never, never, never !" 
 
 "All right, Honey," he laughed "This suits me." 
 "But if you must know," she went on rapidly, cuddling 
 closer within his arms, "It it was that first time you 
 you dear brute f when you " she kissed him swiftly 
 "on the horse ! Don't laugh, dear ; just kiss me."
 
 302 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 And now a true oil boom came to Tin Spout. The 
 paper boom had collapsed as a balloon when the air is let 
 out of it. The colossal stock-selling campaign of the Pan- 
 National Syndicate was ruined almost overnight. The 
 public had been mulcted for millions, but this was no nov- 
 elty, and it soon was forgotten. Bodine's share of the 
 loot enabled him and the broken Grogan to flee into Mex- 
 ico. It was not long before word drifted back that the 
 smugglers and gamblers in Tia Juana acknowledged a 
 new leader, who was very much at home in his surround- 
 ings and who established as lookout in one of his gaming 
 houses a scar- faced man who made absolutely no pretense 
 of being a tough one. 
 
 Meanwhile the oil fever raged at Tin Spout with the 
 customary virulence of the disease. The new fame of 
 Tin Spout drew its quota of wealth-hungry citizens from 
 all parts of the country, and oilmen came thither from 
 England and Holland. Wall Street was attracted, the 
 skyrocket speculative financiers and the solid oil com- 
 panies as well. There was high-gravity crude oil beneath 
 this boom, and a refinery was erected, and trains of loaded 
 tank cars rumbled over the branch line that cut the old 
 88 Ranch in two. 
 
 Perhaps the spectacle which the locality now presented 
 was the most typically American that our generation af- 
 fords. For here was a heterogeneous horde, recklessly 
 optimistic and eagerly concentrated upon the feat of co- 
 lossal material accomplishments, quite regardless of the 
 consequences to self, to neighbour or to future generations. 
 It was childishly swayed by propaganda, running like a 
 flock of sheep at the beck of the unquenchable spirit that 
 urged it onward. If it scrambled madly for a share of
 
 Tarrant of Tin Spout 303 
 
 earth's bountiful resources, it also spent itself unquestion- 
 ingly in the fight, and asked no odds from man or fate. 
 
 It wasted deplorably of wealth and strength and life; 
 but out of the welter insistently there rose the spiritual 
 guarantors of permanence and progress. Men died be- 
 cause of careless methods of work and living, and were 
 hastily buried and their graves were moved to make way 
 for the drilling rigs; but those guilty of the apparent 
 desecration would not have had it otherwise had it been 
 their lot to be among the unfortunate. The job of the 
 men operating in the field, as they saw it, was to produce 
 oil. Critics, with a due regard for ethics and traditions, 
 might well be appalled at the methods employed by these 
 men ; but upon one fact there could be cast no doubt they 
 did the job. 
 
 One night soon after the new boom had begun in earn- 
 est, a northbound train with an observation car on the 
 end was preparing to depart from the trim brick station 
 which was being rushed toward completion at Tin Spout. 
 A young man and a girl came unobtrusively along the 
 train, and at the sight of the couple the porter on the rear 
 car hastily opened the polished brass gate of the observa- 
 tion platform. 
 
 A tall old man and a stocky young man, each bearing 
 a suitcase and handbag, followed behind the pair. They 
 surrendered the baggage reluctantly to the porter. Their 
 occupation gone, they stood about clumsily. 
 
 "Looks a little as if she might cool off a bit to-night, 
 mebbe," said Elmer portentously. 
 
 "It is a little cooler, for a fact," responded Buck. 
 
 "Boys," said Tarrant. "I have never tried to tell you
 
 304 Tarrant of Tin Spout 
 
 how I feel toward you, and I am not going to try now; 
 but " 
 
 "You better get aboard," interrupted Buck, making a 
 great ado over looking at his watch ; "she'll be pulling out 
 in a second." 
 
 "Sure will/' agreed Elmer, likewise consulting his time- 
 piece. "So long, Spence; so long, Mrs. Tarrant." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Marjorie. "Do you think you are going 
 like that?" 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then she stepped forward 
 swiftly and threw her arms about them and kissed them, 
 one after the other. 
 
 Buck and Elmer stood and looked at the pair on the 
 rear platform as the train pulled out. They stood there 
 long after Tarrant and Marjorie had ceased to be visible, 
 after the lights of the train had grown dim and disap- 
 peared and even after its rumble had ceased to mark its 
 course as it rolled nearer the Red River on its way north- 
 ward When it was gone beyond all sight and hearing 
 Elmer cleared his throat and looked up at the sky. 
 
 "Looks sort of as if it might cool off a little, mebbe," 
 he asserted. 
 
 "Eh, yah," agreed Buck, "it sort of does."
 
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