After breakfast the little fellow invited his grandfather to accompany him into the library, where he proceeded to unfold his plan. It was nothing more nor less than that they should go back to Pennsylvania, and sink a well, for oil, on the farm that his father had left him.
For a moment Colonel Dale looked at the boy to see if he were in earnest, and then burst into a hearty laugh. “Why, Arthur!” he said at length, “whatever put such an idea into your head? I don’t know the first thing about oil wells, and I am afraid that, wise as you are, you don’t know much more than I do.”
“That’s just it, sir!” replied the boy, eagerly. “And it is because both of us are ‘chumps’ that we’ll be certain to strike oil. Brace Barlow always said so. You see, a ‘chump’ is somebody who doesn’t know any more about oil, or where to find it, than we do. What Brace Barlow says is, that while those who know all about the business often strike ‘dusters,’ a ‘genuine chump’ always has luck with his first well. Now, you are a ‘genuine chump,’ you know. I’m afraid I am not quite genuine, because Brace Barlow has told me so much about the business, and because I helped him shoot a well. But, I think you must be genuine enough for both of us. It’s a perfectly splendid way to make money, unless you strike a ‘duster,’ but only ‘sharps’ do that.”
“What do you mean by ‘dusters’ and ‘sharps’? They sound exceedingly like slang words,” said Colonel Dale, smiling.
“Oh, no, indeed, they are not!” cried Arthur. “Brace Barlow uses them, and so does Uncle John. A ‘duster’ is a dry well—one that doesn’t have any oil, you know; and a ‘sharp’ is one who understands all about the oil business. He is just the most different kind of a man from a ‘chump,’ and is nearly always too wise to make money.”
“But, my boy, your farm is not even in the oil region; so what makes you fancy that we could strike oil by sinking a well on it?” asked Colonel Dale.
“Because I know two secrets about it,” answered the boy, mysteriously. “One day when papa and I were walking in the back wood-lot, we smelled gas, and by and by we found a tiny place in the rocks where it came out. Papa lighted it, and it burned beautifully. Then he put it out, and told me always to remember that place, but not to say anything about it to anybody until the proper time came. After that papa studied a great deal about oil, and he found out that our farm was on the forty-five degree line, and said he was quite sure that oil would some day be found on it.