Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1890-12-11
WITH A TORPEDO-MAN.
Shooting an Oil Well in Pennsyl-
vania.
Ono Mans Experience with Nitro Glycer-
inc in the Oil Fields of the Key.
Stone State-T.ettins Loose
the "Go-Devil."

want to go well-shooting, do you?"
said my friend tho broker as we stood
In the Petroleum Exchange at Oil City.
"Wen. every one to his taste. Now
nothing would induce me to travel with
a torpedo-man. However, I'll fix it for
you"
was thereupon introduced to quiet
young man, who said he was a we'll
shooter. was going to torpedo we'll
some six miles out in the country at
daylight the next morning, and would
be very glad to have me go with him.
At four o'clock the following morn
ing Iawaited, at the stable where he kept
his spirited team, the coming Of my
new frie nd A few minutes later he
appeared, bearing on his shoulder
bundle of new tin tubes ten feet long
and two and five inches in diameter.
The torpedo-wagon in which we were
to ride was an open, single-seated box
buggy hung on the lightest and most
delicate steel springs. The seat was
hinged and swung forward. Beneath
it was a strong box divided into six
square padded compartments. To my
great relief they were empty.
While sleepy hostler was harness.
ing the team-two jet-blacl1 spirited
young animals, for torpedo-man prides
himself upon the mettle of his horses
my companion affixed to the left-hand
side of the buggy two curved iron rests,
something like those placed at the back
of a victims head by photogra pher.
They are also padded. and in them was
laid and securely lashed the bundle of
tin tubes. In the buggy, behind the
seat, were placed a heavy iron reel on
which were wound some two thousand
feet of stout oil-soaked cord, a coil of
fuse, another of small wire, and ''go-
devil" AS we took our places and the
lively team sprang away 1 ,entured to
remind the torpedo-man that he had
forgotten his nitro-glycerine.
"Oh, no, I haven't" he laughed. Il
am not allowed to bring it into town,
but keep it in several small magazines
some miles out in the woods, near the
different roads that l nave to travel.
There is one not far from the we'll we
are going to shoot this morning, so that
we sha'nt have to drive more than a
mile with the stuff aboard"
The morning air seemed to intoxicate
our team, for they danced along the
road, occasionally springing from side
to side in mock terror of stump,
black bowlder, or the puff of steam from
pumping-engine. These exhibitions
of equine recklessness and disregard of
consequences were by no means reaS
surfing, and would have been most alarm
Ing had the stuff been under our bug
gy seat.
We passed several teams, and the
moment their drivers caught sight of
the cleaning tin tubes that denoted
the character of our equipage, they
drew as far as possible tc the side OF
the road, and respectfully waited for us
to pass.
''Oh yes" said the torpedo man; II
always have all the room Iwant. Nobody
ever crowds this outfit"
At length we were high up on the
hilltop where the hot morning sun
had dissipated the mist that still lay
like a soft gray blanket over the low
lands. All at once we turned sharply
to the left, and directly into the dense
the rude trail that we now followed,
but their stumps remained. Over these,
over loose rocks, and through bog holes
the active horses scamb led, and the
light buggy bounced with such plunges
and slides that it was difficult to retain
ones seat
SIS the magazine in here?" asked.
Eyes; only short distance ahead"
"You surely don't drive out this way
with the glycerine aboard?"
"Why, of course. This is the only
road. 1t isn't frst-class one, I'll al
low; but, if it was too good, inquisitive
folks might be tempted to come in here.
It's safe enough, though. The supply
wagon came in here only the day before
yesterday with a thousand pounds of
the stuff and got through all right.
There's the place, now"
AS he spoke the torpedo-man halted
his team in front of a small, window
less building of rough boards, the single
door of which was fastened by an or
binary paddock. In a conspicuous place
on its front was nailed sign that
read: Danger! Keep away from this
building! This sign fascinated me so
that I could hardly avert my gaze from
1t. even though plucked wild rose
from bush that leaned confidingly
against the magazine and pretended to
be carelessly admiring it's beauty.
''How much is in there?" asked.
''Oh, fifteen hundred quarts or SO;
enough, any way, to blow Oil City out
Of sight," answered my companion, as
he unlocked the door and stepped in
side.
Redecting that the danger could be