the seats, and when Bob lifted his gaze from the paper he could see the round, good-natured face of the fat man beaming through the gray veil.
"What you want to go to that trouble for?" he drawled, after a pause. Clearly he was never hurried into an answer. "Seems to me, Jack, this is a case where the youngster shows good judgment. Where you fixing to operate?"
"Oklahoma," was the comprehensive answer. "Oil's the thing to-day. There's more money being made in the fields over night than we used to think was in the United States mint."
"Oil's good," said the fat man judicially. "But why the lease? Plenty of farms still owned by widows or old maids, and they'll fairly throw the land at you if you handle 'em right."
There was an exclamation from the dark-eyed man.
"Just what I was telling Jack this morning," he chortled. "Buy a farm, for farming purposes only, from some old lady. Pay her a good price, but get your land in the oil section. Old lady happy, we strike oil, sell out to big company, everybody happy. Simple, after all. Good schemes always are."
Jack Fluss grunted derisively.
"Lovely schemes, yours always are," he commented sarcastically. "Only thing missing from the scenario, as stated, is the farm. Where are
