Chapter 24 Tom Swift and His Great Oil Gusher by Victor Appleton
FIGHTING THE FIRE
“The well!” shouted Tom. “It’s coming toward the well!”
Terror gripped at the hearts of all. The men stood for an instant as though paralyzed. Carol wrung her hands in anguish.
“With this wind blowing, nothing can stop it,” groaned Mr. Damon, his face white with excitement.
“But even if it gets that far, the well is capped!” exclaimed Ned, catching at a shred of hope.
“It’ll catch fire just the same,” said Tom, as he remembered the leaking gate valve and the oil-soaked hillside. “Once let the flames begin to lick round that casing, and there’ll be a tremendous explosion. Don’t let’s fool ourselves. We’ve got to stop it—got to stop it! Carol, you run to the ’phone. Call up the neighbors. Call up Copperhead. Get all the fire-fighters you can. You men come with me.”
Hankinshaw and his gang had done their work well. The night was an ideal one for their project, the wind being strong and from the north where there were dense thickets and many trees to furnish fuel for the fire, which was now advancing at terrifying speed.
“Everybody get shovels,” yelled Tom. “I’ll get the men up,” and he dashed toward the cabin where the drillers slept. Usually, Koku slept there too, and Tom hoped to find him, for he knew what the giant’s great strength and tireless endurance were worth in an emergency.
Luckily Koku was in the cabin with the men, but it was almost impossible to get him awake. The others had all rushed out with shovels and axes before Tom finally shook him into consciousness.
“What’s matter?” he muttered, as he scrambled sleepily to his feet. “Time get up?”
“You bet it is—high time,” replied Tom, and the excitement in his voice effectually aroused the faithful giant. “The woods to the north of the oil well are on fire, and the flames are coming toward us fast. We’ve got to put that fire out, Koku.”
“I do that,” declared Koku confidently.
“Get a shovel and follow me,” ordered Tom. “You might take an axe along too,” he added. “The only chance we’ve got is to clear a space ahead of the flames that they can’t jump over. If we can do that, we may save the well yet,” and he and Koku started at a fast run toward the oncoming flames.
The fire had not yet reached the oil belt, but it was not over a mile from it when the young inventor and his faithful giant arrived on the scene. Everybody that could handle a shovel or an axe was there, but they were working without leadership until Tom arrived. He took control at once, and in a few minutes everybody knew just what he was expected to do.
By this time the heat of the fire was intense, and the smoke enveloped those fighting it in a stifling cloud. Hot sparks and embers floated over their heads, and threatened at any moment to kindle new fires nearer the oil well. Tom detailed three of the drillers to watch for these incipient fires and smother them or beat them out before they got serious. Ned and Mr. Damon, together with the rest of the drilling gang and such of the neighbors as had come to help, he put to work digging ditches and clearing the ground in the path of the approaching flames of its dried underbrush, while he and Koku set about chopping down some of the trees that grew on the hillside.
They were not large trees, scarcely more than saplings in fact, but there were a great many of them.
“Now, Koku,” shouted Tom, “work as you’ve never worked before.”
“Me do,” answered the giant, as he tightened his hold on the axe.
Tom himself was an expert at wielding an axe, and he swung with a tireless stroke that soon showed results, but for every sapling that he brought down Koku felled two. In the red glare of the oncoming fire the giant worked like a demon, his great muscles swelling and knotting as he swung the blade of his axe in gleaming circles. The heat increased until it became so unbearable that everybody else had to fall back, but he hardly seemed to feel it. He kept at work until the fire was almost on top of him, and Tom yelled to him to come back. But by that time they had cut a long swath along the side of the hill between the fire and the well. Other workers had pretty well cleared up the underbrush and drawn the bulk of it back, apparently out of the reach of the oncoming flames.
But they had reckoned without the wind, which blew strongly and fanned the fire into a fury that recognized no check. As it reached the edge of the cleared space it died down slightly while it ate along the edge as though it were endowed with intelligence and was seeking out the easiest place to cross. The scorched and weary fire-fighters leaned on their tools and waited with nerves tense to see if their efforts had prevailed. Had the night been still, the red enemy would have been conquered then and there from lack of fuel to feed upon, but the wind rose until it reached half a gale and carried on its wings blazing leaves and twigs that alighted on the far side of the cleared space. Here the fire found fresh fuel to feed upon, and resumed its devastating march toward the oil well.
Some of the fire-fighters were ready to throw down their tools and admit defeat. They had seen the fire demon at work before, and they knew how hard it was to bar his progress. Had it been left to them, they would have given in to what they considered the inevitable, and accepted defeat. But Tom, like a famous American commander, had “just begun to fight.”
“Come on up farther, and we’ll try again!” he yelled. “The wind is dying down a little, and this time we may stop it.”
But this time he resorted to a stronger force than mere human labor. In a shack not far from the well was stored some nitro-glycerine, which they had bought when it seemed as though they might have to explode it to strike oil. It was not needed at that time, but now the thought of it flashed through Tom’s mind, and he resolved to try it. He figured that by exploding the powerful nitro-glycerine he could plough up a deep and wide trench that might effectually prevent the further progress of the fire.
“Come on, Koku!” he shouted, “I’ve got a job for you.”
Followed by his giant retainer, he set off for the storage shack. When they reached it, Tom reached in his pocket for the key to the padlock. He fumbled about, but the key was gone—lost in the mad activities of that lurid night.
“We’re up against it now, Koku!” exclaimed the young inventor, in desperation. “We’ve got to get into that shack, but the key is lost, and that’s a strong padlock. How are we going to do it?”
For answer, Koku seized the padlock and, placing his foot against the door jamb, pulled until his powerful muscles stood out in ridges. There came a screech of nails being drawn through wood, padlock and hasp came flying off the door, while Koku staggered backward and almost fell from the force of his own exertions.
“Good enough!” exclaimed Tom. “Now, Koku, this is dangerous stuff to handle. If we fall with it, they’ll never be able to find the pieces. Are you game to take the chance?”
“What you tell me, I do,” replied Koku calmly.
Each took all of the explosive he could carry and started back toward the fire. It was a terribly dangerous journey, as a fall would spell disaster. The fire gave such a light, however, that they could see as clearly as in daytime, and it was not long before they had the high explosive in place in front of the approaching flames. Then all ran to a safe distance, while Tom set the charge off.
There was a terrific roar, and a cloud of gravel, chips, and other debris went flying through the air. When the smoke cleared away, the fire-fighters saw that they had a broad trench for hundreds of feet in both directions, with sand and gravel heaped up in great piles along its length.
It looked as though this would surely stop the fire, and for a time it seemed as though their hopes would be justified. The fire hesitated, and died down until it seemed to be only smouldering.
But suddenly a burning tree, almost uprooted by the explosion, toppled across the ditch, and before Tom or any of the others could get to the spot, the fire had taken hold again, and was rapidly spreading. All their work was wasted, and the fire was a good deal nearer the well than when they had started!
Still they fought on doggedly, blistered and smoke-begrimed. Carol and other women passed up and down the line with coffee and sandwiches. Tom and Ned were here, there and everywhere, working feverishly and cheering on the men.
“We’re goners though, old boy!” groaned Ned.
“Never say die!” panted Tom, feigning a confidence he was far from feeling. “We’ll beat it yet.”
But when the morning came, the fire was still gaining—gaining only by inches now in the desperate battle—but gaining. The gallant host of weary men still fought on, but they fought like men at bay, looking into the fiery eyes of doom!