Chapter 13 Tom Swift and His Great Oil Gusher by Victor Appleton
A NIGHT OF TRIUMPH
All his close friends were with Tom in the office on the memorable night when his hopes became certainty. His father, Ned and Mr. Damon had hung breathlessly on his final calculations, and when he at last looked up with the triumphant smile that could mean only one thing, they were almost as jubilant as he and overwhelmed him with congratulations.
“Bless my oil stocks!” cried Mr. Damon, slapping him on the shoulder. “Tom, my boy, you’re a wonder.”
“You’ve got all other inventors tied to the mast and screeching for help,” affirmed Ned, as he wrung his friend’s hand.
“I knew you would do it,” said his father quietly, as he wiped his glasses. And to Tom this calm, affectionate assurance was the sweetest praise of all.
“Are you sure that the patent has been attended to all right?” asked Mr. Damon anxiously.
“You can bet,” answered Tom. “We had a wire from Reid and Crawford, our Washington lawyers, to-day, and they tell us that everything is O. K. It doesn’t infringe on any previous patent, and the idea of the drill is entirely new. The lawyers themselves think it’s great.”
“The next thing, I suppose,” went on Mr. Damon, “will be to get in touch with some of the big companies, tell them what your drill can do, give them a demonstration and then lean back and let them bid against each other.”
“N-no,” replied Tom thoughtfully, “I don’t think that will be the next thing. I’m not quite ready for that.”
The whole company looked at him in surprise.
“Just what do you mean by that?” asked Ned, in a puzzled way.
“Why,” said Tom, “I’ve been thinking that I might go down to the oil fields and take a whirl myself at oil-well digging. What’s the matter,” he added with a grin, “with becoming a magnate on my own account?”
There was a chorus of exclamations. None had had the slightest intimation that Tom had been thinking of anything of the kind.
“What’s put that idea into your head?” asked his father.
“I’ve been reading and thinking so much about oil lately that it’s sort of got a grip on me,” replied Tom. “I’m eager to see the thing at first hand. Then, too, I want to put the drill to work on a real honest-to-goodness well. I’ll be much better qualified after that to talk business to any one who may want to buy the invention. Then, too, I may find that we can make more money by keeping the invention for ourselves than we can by selling it to somebody. Of course, it’s only an idea as yet, and I haven’t thought it through. My present impression, however, is that I’ll go down there.”
“When do you think of going?” asked Ned.
“Just as soon as we get this oil-well machinery contract off our hands,” was the answer. “Say, about a month from now. How would you like to go with me, Ned?”
“I’d like it above all things,” answered Ned. “I guess we could get things in shape so that the business would go on all right for the few weeks we’d be gone. And your father would be here to supervise things generally.”
“Bless my railroad ticket! I’ll go along too,” exclaimed their eccentric friend. “I always like to keep an eye on what Tom is doing. I’ve had a hankering, too, for a long time to see what an oil field is like. Count me in on this. That is, of course, if you want me.”
“You bet we want you,” said Tom cordially. “It wouldn’t seem natural if you weren’t somewhere within hail. My airplane will easily carry the three of us.”
“Bless my life insurance! No, no,” cried Mr. Damon. “You young fellows can go that way, but I’m a little too much under the weather just now for that. The railroad will be plenty good enough for me this time. But I’ll make the trip so that I’ll get there about the same time you do.”
“Why, Mr. Damon, are you really going to give up sky flying?” questioned Tom, in surprise.
“Only this time, Tom. Bless my wings! I can’t be with you always. Besides, I’ve got to stop off at Washington and maybe one or two other cities on business. But, as I said before, I’ll fix it so I’ll get down there about the same time you do.”
There was some further discussion of the matter, and when they separated, the trip had been practically decided upon, only the exact date remaining to be fixed later on.
The next night Tom ran up to make a call on Mary. He had been so engrossed of late with his invention that he had been able to see her but seldom, although there had not been a day when they had not talked together over the telephone. But feeling toward each other as Tom and Mary did, the telephone, they found, was a very inadequate substitute for a face-to-face talk.
To Mary, Tom had confided the fact that he was working on a new invention, but he had not laid much stress upon it, as he did not want to raise her expectations so high that she would feel keenly disappointed if it should amount to nothing.
Now, however, he had succeeded and was in high feather. He pictured to himself the delight on her face when he should tell her of the new invention and what he hoped from it. Her praise would be his greatest reward. His happiness in success would be doubled by her sharing in it.
He stopped on his way to buy some candy; and flowers, and, thus furnished, hurried along to Mary’s house and rang the bell.
Instead of a happy face it was a frightened one that Tom saw when Mary opened the door. But it lighted with infinite relief when she saw who it was.
“Oh, Tom, I’m so glad, so glad that you’ve come!” she exclaimed. “I never needed you so much.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, in quick alarm. “Any one sick?”
“No,” said Mary. “It’s that horrid man—that Hankinshaw. He forced himself into the house on the pretext that he wanted to talk business with father. He’s been drinking. He——”
But Tom had already dropped his packages. Be went into the living room with a rush. Mrs. Nestor, pale-faced and agitated, was standing in a corner wringing her hands. Mr. Nestor, still far from robust after his recent illness, was expostulating with Hankinshaw and trying to push him outside of the room.
Tom took it all in with a glance. The next instant he had grabbed Hankinshaw by the collar and whirled him around.