The Daily Missoulian. [volume] (Missoula, Mont.) 1904-1961, 1917-05-06
A Novel of the Oil Fields
by Mary Austin Just Issued

| reckon Them That's Above".-this
was as near as Addie permitted herself
the naming of any Powers-"they
wouldn't let a body serve his time at
what they'd made him for, without
they would tot 1t up for him one OF
these days. she would conclude with
a triumphant logic. For II did not take
even the half an eye which Addie al
lowed to it to see in Pop Scudder the
figure of the incurable, the tempera-
mental pioneer; the tall. STOPPING
frame sloprd forward, not 30 much
with years as with following fast on
Hope, the huge, oil-hardcned hands,
curling in his lap like a child's, as he
sat listening with a child's bright fix
ity to Adde'S leaping condolences. the
pale. farseeing eyes looking out from
an eNpansc of Nhitened whiskcr, as
from the midst Of his own dreams"
Mrs. Austin describes the striking Of
a 'Eusher.'
1T came upon them there between n
tremor and n sound-a duh rushing,
which grew into a steady roar as Of
wind or water, or the believing OF tho
plundcrcd earth. They couldn't make
1t ont---a sound so unrelated to the
day-but they heard shouting at the
bridge astounded. frightened. They
understood that. They lcapcd out from
the willows across the bridge in time
to sec three or four idlers running out
of the roadhouse. and Hartley DAVIS,
| hatlcss, starting from the door of his
| little office like "A cuckoo from his
clock. All the lines of looking and
, running converged at the Sink, where
now they saw arise the black vomit OF
tho earth in a huge column that broke
and rained backward on the green sod.
| They saw the waggling. broken arm Of
the derrick, whrled about like a twig
; in trcshct. and little drenched fig
ures running aimlessIy. The boys be-
gan to run, too. 1t seemed to Kenneth
that he was running in a dream: his
legs moved, but he got no farther for
ward. Men came running up behind
and passed them.
strike strike" some one shouted
| IT'S u gusher," they heard Hartley
DAVIS calling over his shoulder. The
grocery wagon went by at gallon,
| and Mr.. Brent, standing in il. holding
onto the back of the seat
| THE boys clutchcd at the tailboa rd,
felt it humping crucly at their chests
and then ricochetcd. and with "a final
| jerking halt, into the ring OF aston
well. They stood off from the fine
spray of the gusher. the fall Of which
veercd "a little. and finally descended
to the west into the hollow prepared
for it. Jim Hand capcrcd about, drunk
with excitement. He was drenched
with the sudden black rain and blood
| ran down his face from a cut in his
forehead made by a falling bar of the
derrick. though he seemed not to notice
1t. From time to time he would move
to put his hand to his head as II in
pain, but forgot the gesture in repeti-
| ton OF an obscssing phrase:
| Thousand bar'ls Il day---thousand
bar'ls--.' lie clipped his words like a
man far gone in drink. Just look al
her-look at herr He caught sight OF
Brent and surged toward him. What
dye think of that Brent? What dye
think of it? Has the Homestead com
pany got oil or hasn't 1t? Betcha
there's thousand bar'ls.' He waved
his arms about as challenging all com.
ers with the statement
Brent caught him by the shoulder.
to force his attention..
"a thousand barrels going to waste
then. you boNhk.'
Hand threw him off with foolisf
laugh.