it was, that lanky chap from Texas—was telling me that from the outskirts of the place you can see oil wells. Or perhaps we can get a bus to take us out to the fields and bring us back."
"Oh, no," protested Betty. "I know Uncle Dick is counting on showing us the wells and explaining them to us. Bob. Don't let us bother about going up close to a well—we can see enough from the town limits. Look, there's one now!"
They had reached the edge of the narrow, straggling group of streets that was all of Chassada, and now Betty pointed toward the west where tall iron framework rose in the air. There were six of these structures, and, even at that distance, the boy and girl could see men working busily about at the base of the frames.
"Looks just like the postcards your uncle sent, doesn't it?" said Bob delightedly. "Gee! I'd like to see just how they drive them. Well, I suppose before we're a week older we'll know how to drive a well and what to do with the oil when it finally flows. You'll be talking oil as madly as any of them then, Betty."
"I suppose I shall," admitted Betty. "Do you know, I'm hungry. I wonder if there is any place we can eat?"
"Must be," said the optimistic Bob. "Come on, we'll go up this street. Perhaps there will be
