flourishing town are conspicuous by their absence."
"But where do people live?" demanded Betty, puzzled. "If they come here to work or to buy land, isn't there a hotel to live in? Where do you live, Uncle Dick?"
"Mostly in my tin boat," was the answer. "Many's the night I've slept in the car. But of course I have a bunk out at the field. Accommodations are extremely limited, Betty, I will admit. The few houses that take in travelers are over-crowded and dirty. If some one had enterprise enough to start a good hotel he'd make a fortune. But like all oil towns, the fever is to sink one's money in wells."
Betty's eyes turned to the horizon where the steel towers reared against the sky.
"Can we go to see the oil fields now?" she asked. "We're not a bit tired, are we, Bob?"
Mr. Gordon surveyed his niece banteringly.
"What is your idea of an oil field?" he teased. "A bit of pasture neatly fenced in, say two or three acres in area? Did you know that our company at present holds leases for over four thousand acres? The nearest well is ten miles from this station. No, child, I don't think we'll run out and look around before supper. I want to take you and Bob to a place I've found where I think you'll be comfortable. Have you trunk checks?
