Many conflagrations, caused by the lightning striking an oil-tank, have been known since the discovery of petroleum; but none had ever been so disastrous as the one of which the reader has had but an imperfect account.

Forty-five thousand barrels of oil had been consumed or wasted up to the time as narrated in the previous chapter, and fully as much more was now threatened by the overflow, which had taken fire, and was shooting forth flames most dangerously near the other two large tanks.

At the first alarm the entire force present left whatever they were working at to combat the new danger, when George and several of those who, with him, were directing the work, saw at once the peril to which the town was exposed by this sudden abandonment of the labor which had been performed for the purpose of presenting an impassable barrier to the angry flames.

It was impossible that the now nearly exhausted workers could prevent the flames from attacking the two tanks upon which they were sweeping, and if vain labor was spent upon that quarter, the enemy would, beyond a doubt, gain possession of the town.

To keep the men from neglecting the safety of their homes to try uselessly to save property which could easily be replaced, was absolutely necessary, and the length of time required to persuade them to return to the work they had first been engaged in would decide the fate of the village.

Leaping directly in front of what had almost become an unreasoning mob, George and Ralph tried by their strength to resist the impulsive dash forward, at the same time that they shouted at the full strength of their lungs the reason why the work nearer the town should not be neglected.

For some moments it seemed as if they would be trampled under the feet of the frightened multitude, and then their coolness won the victory over unreasoning fear, as it always will whenever displayed.

The people returned to the more important labor the moment they understood how fruitless would have been their work in the other direction, and George aided them by his efforts and advice, while Ralph, with a dozen assistants, began a cannonading of the other two tanks that were just beginning to add their fuel to the fearful blaze.

The breeze, which, caused by the heated air, always springs up during a conflagration, now rolled the thick, black smoke first in one direction and then in another, until those who had not already succumbed to the heat were nearly suffocated, and it seemed impossible that any one could continue at his work.

The sun had set, although that fact was hardly noticed, since for several hours the heavy smoke had veiled the scene as with the mantle of night, through which the flames glowed and flashed luridly.

In the struggle between the men and the flames, first one and then the other gained a victory; but neither had made any progress.

Ralph and his assistants had opened vent-holes for the oil in the last-attacked tanks, thereby preventing fully half the oil from combustion, although it was entirely lost.

The female portion of the workers had long since desisted from any effort to check the flames, and had continued their work by preparing food for the laborers, carrying it to them that they might not be obliged to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in getting it.

During all that long night the people worked in relays, that each might have an opportunity for rest, and when morning came the flames were well-nigh subdued – not so much through the exertions of those who fought against them, as because of the fact that there was nothing more remaining for them to feed upon.

By that time a small body of watchers, in order to see that the remaining flames did not overleap the boundaries set, was all that was necessary at the place where ninety thousand barrels of oil had been consumed or wasted, and for the first time since the thunderstorm had cleared away, Ralph and George felt that they were at liberty to go where they chose. Both were begrimed by the smoke until it would have puzzled their best friends to tell whether they were white men or negroes, and both were in a very dilapidated condition, so far as clothing was concerned.

The garments they had cast off when the work of fighting fire was begun, had been tossed about, trampled on, or scorched until they could no longer be called serviceable, and, half-clothed, dirty and disreputable-looking generally as they were, they started wearily for the town in search of rest, and, what was quite as important, a bath.

Many times during the night had George thought about his missing horses; but it was not until he was relieved from all care which the conflagration had caused, that he began to grow seriously alarmed. It did not seem possible that any one could have stolen them, and he cheered himself with the thought that they had simply broken loose and run away, or that some one living near by had cared for them.

A visit to the shed where the team had been left dissipated this first supposition, for there was every indication that the horses had been taken by some one, since no broken harness was there to tell of flight, and the door was carefully closed behind them, showing an excess of precaution on the part of some one, since both doors had been left wide open when George drove in.

"Some one must have recognized them as yours, and taken them away thinking they were not safe while the fire was raging so furiously," said Ralph, after the survey of the shed was completed, and George believed such was the case.

"At all events, we will get a bath and borrow some clothes first; then we can soon find out where they are," said George.

And in pursuance of this plan the boys started towards Sawyer, so weary that it seemed almost impossible for them to walk.

It was not a difficult matter for two who had worked as hard and done as much service as George and Ralph, to get all they required at the town, once they arrived there, and the bath had revived them so much that both were in favor of finding the team at once, in order that they might get what else they required at the Kenniston farm.

Under ordinary circumstances they could have hired a team with which to search for their own; but now, with every one in that state of excitement or prostration which follows such scenes as the inhabitants of Sawyer had just passed through, it was almost impossible to find any one sufficiently calm to transact the most ordinary business.

Twice George made the attempt to hire a horse, and then he gave up what promised to be a useless effort, both he and Ralph thinking it better to pursue their inquiries on foot than waste their time by trying to hire a team, and being obliged to walk after all.

They began the search by making inquiries in town, of any one whom they met, and by going to each stable or even barn, looking in each place large enough to shelter the team; but without seeing any signs of it whatever.

Then they started up the road in the direction from which they had just come, and at the dwelling nearest the shed where the team had been left, they heard the first tidings.

The lady living in this house knew George's team, and said that while the fire was at its height, when she had come to her house for the purpose of getting food to carry to her husband, she had seen two men drive toward Sawyer in it. The men were entire strangers to her, she said, and they were driving at full speed, but whether that was due to the fear the horses had of the flames, or to a liberal use of the whip, she was unable to say. She described the men as being young and well dressed, and was quite positive that she had never seen them before.

George's first thought was that his friends, the moonlighters, had taken the horses away, as a favor to him, and this belief was strengthened when, on questioning the woman closely, he learned that she did not know either Jim or Dick even by sight.

"They probably came down when they saw the smoke," said George, confidently, to Ralph, "and on finding the team here, knowing we were at work, have carried it to Farmer Kenniston's."

"I should have thought they would have tried to find us first, so as to let us know what they were going to do," said Ralph.

"In order to have found us, they would have been obliged to meet some of the people here, and they probably did not think that safe, even though everyone had so much to attend to."

"But they would have left word with someone," insisted Ralph.

"That would have been as bad as to show themselves. Bob probably wants to make it appear that he hasn't even been in this section of the country, and if any trouble comes of carrying the glycerine through the town, he will insist that he hasn't been here."

Ralph was far from being as positive that they would find the horses at the Kenniston farm as his friend was, but he contented himself with waiting until it could be proven, rather than to provoke an argument when it seemed that, under any circumstances, they had better return there.

After some considerable difficulty, the boys found a man who, for a generous consideration, would carry them to the farm in his wagon, drawn by a slow, methodical-moving horse, and they set out, George's fears for the safety of his team entirely allayed, and Ralph's increasing each moment.

In order to make sure that the horses had been driven toward the farm, and not in the direction of Jim's home, George made inquiries of all he met on the road, as well as at several of the houses.

Quite a number of people had seen the team, driven along at full speed by two young men, and had noticed it particularly because they believed it had been sent to Bradford to get assistance in extinguishing the fire.

This continued news caused George to be positive that his horses were safe at the farm, and in the rapid driving he recognized, or thought he did, Jim's presence, for that young gentleman was always anxious to get over the road as fast as possible.

But when they had arrived within a mile of Farmer Kenniston's home, they received information of the team which had the effect of arousing George from his dream of fancied security, so far as his horses were concerned.

A farmer who was well acquainted with all three of the moonlighters, had seen the horses as they were driven past his home on the afternoon of the previous day, and he was positive that neither Bob, Jim nor Dick was in the carriage. The men were young, well dressed, and strangers, so far as George's informant knew, and he was certain that they had not been in Sawyer, nor in the vicinity, any length of time.

This aroused all of George's fears, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he could restrain his impatience until the farm-house was reached, when the first question asked was as to whether the horses were there.

Farmer Kenniston was surprised that such a question should be asked, for he had seen the team going toward Bradford the day previous, and, as it was in advance of him at the time, he had no doubt but that it was George who was driving.

That the horses had been stolen there could no longer be any doubt, and how they could be recovered was just what neither of the boys could decide.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE PURSUIT

It was some time before the boys, even with the aid of Farmer Kenniston's not very valuable advice, could decide upon what course to pursue for the recovery of the stolen property. The plan which met with the most favor, however, was that they should take one of the farmer's teams, and follow in the direction the men had been seen to drive, which was evidently through Bradford. By making inquiries on the road, they might be able to track the thieves and overtake them, although this seemed hardly probable, because of the start of nearly twenty-four hours which the men had.

If the trail led through Bradford, they could there notify the authorities, and also telegraph to the different towns near by; and if it did not, it was decided that Ralph should leave George, going by himself to try to intercept the thieves by the aid of the electric current.

Farmer Kenniston's best horse, which, by-the-way, was not a very valuable animal, was soon harnessed into a stout wagon, and the boys set out, having but little faith in the success of their journey.

George had taken with him all the money he had, which was a trifle over two hundred dollars, since they might not only be gone a long while, but it was quite possible that if they did recover the team, they would be obliged to incur some heavy expenses.

Ralph had one hundred dollars, which his father had given him for the necessary bills while on his vacation, and this he offered to George, in case he should need on the journey any more than he had. Thus the boys were, as they believed, amply provided with money, and they intended to follow the thieves just as long as they could track them.

On the road to Bradford, George met two men who had seen the team the day before, and they drove into the town, confident that the men they were in pursuit of had entered there the day previous.

Before trying to learn who had seen the horses, George went directly to the chief of police, told his story, and was assured that before morning at least the direction in which the men had gone should be made known.

Under the officer's direction, telegrams were sent to different points where it was thought probable the thieves might go, and, so far as the boys were concerned, nothing more could be done until the officers, who had been sent out to find some news of the team during the time it had been in Bradford, should return.

George was not by any means in the mood to remain idle while waiting for the policemen's report; for the loss of his team, in which he had taken so much pride, weighed heavily upon him. Instead of waiting in the police office for some news, he insisted on going out to make inquiries on his own account, and, as a matter of course, Ralph accompanied him.

It is an easy matter in the country to stop at each house and inquire if the occupants have seen a team pass; but the boys found that such a system could hardly be pursued in the city, since a gentleman might feel insulted if any one should stop him in the street to ask if he had seen a pair of horses, attached to a light wagon, pass there twenty-four hours before.

This difficulty had not presented itself either to George or Ralph, until they were on the street, ready to pursue their investigations, and then they were sadly puzzled to know what to do.

While they were standing irresolutely in front of the police quarters, trying to make up their minds how they should proceed, George was accosted by a rough, but pleasant-looking old gentleman, who appeared very glad to see him, and at the same time acted as if he was in deep trouble about something.

"I am powerful glad to see yer, Mr. Harnett; for I conclude that you've forgotten all about the promise you made to drive out an' see us every time you had the chance."

"And I'm glad to see you, Mr. Simpson," replied George, as he introduced Ralph to Mr. David Simpson. "I have by no means forgotten my promise to call upon you, for I spent too many happy hours while I was boarding with you, when I was surveying the Walters' property, to ever forget that I should like to go again. I have been at work near Farmer Kenniston's, and have not had the time to pay you a visit. But now that I shall have more leisure, I will drive out some day and bring Ralph with me."

"I would be powerful glad to see you, Mr. Harnett," said the old man, sadly; "but it won't be in the old home, and the good Lord only knows where the remainder of my old life will be spent."

"What do you mean, Mr. Simpson?" asked George, in surprise; for the sadness visible on the old man's face astonished him quite as much as the singular words did.

"It means, Mr. Harnett, that I've lost the old place I was raised on, and all for the lack of a little money. You know that I helped poor Tom set himself up in business by mortgaging the farm. If the poor boy had lived, he would have paid it all; but jest when we thought he was gettin' along so famously, he died. I've walked the streets of this town all day, hopin' I could find some one who would help me make up the balance I owe; but the fire yesterday makes everybody feel poor, I s'pose, an' I couldn't borrow a dollar; so I'm goin' home now to tell mother that we've got to leave the home where all our babies were born, and where they all died."

The old man could not prevent the tears from gathering in his eyes as he spoke, and both the boys felt an uncomfortably hard lump rise in their throats as he finished.

"Can't you persuade your creditor to give you longer time?" asked George.

"I've just come from his office, where I begged harder of him than I ever begged of man before to take what money I had and wait a year longer; but he wants my back pasture to piece on to his own, and says he will foreclose to-morrow," replied the old man.

And then, as if conscious that he was obtruding his own sorrows on one whom he had no right to burden with them, he would have changed the conversation; but George prevented him by asking:

"How much did you owe him, Mr. Simpson?"

"Well, you see, I'd kept the interest paid up reg'lar, an' it come to jest the face of the mortgage, five hundred dollars. I'd managed to scrape up two hundred an' twenty-five, an' up to this mornin' I'd reckoned on sellin' the wood lot for enough to make up the balance. But when the fire come yesterday, the man who was to buy it – 'Siah Rich – had lost so much that he couldn't take it."

"Was you to sell him the wood-lot for two hundred and seventy-five dollars?"

"Yes, an' I think it was well worth that. I didn't really need it, an' if I could only have sold it I'd been all right, but now the whole thing's got to go. I don't care so much for myself, but it'll come powerful hard on the wife, for she does set a store by the old place, if it is rough-lookin'."

George beckoned to Ralph to step aside with him, but there was no need of any consultation just then, for the latter said, quickly:

"I know what you mean, George, and here is all I have got."

As he spoke Ralph handed his friend the roll of bills which was to enable him to spend a long vacation, and then turned away, as if not wanting to embarrass the old gentleman by his presence.

"Mr. Simpson," said George, as he added his own money to that which Ralph had given him, "between the two of us we have got enough to buy your wood-lot, and here is the money. Pay the mortgage this afternoon, and then you can make out a deed to these two names."

George wrote his own and Ralph's name on a slip of paper, which he handed to the old man at the same time he gave him the money.

"But I can't take this, Mr. Harnett," he said, while at the same time his face showed how delighted he would be to keep it. "You and your friend don't want my wood-lot, an' you only offer me this money because I have been tellin' you of my troubles, like a beggar, an' an old fool that I am. Take it back, Mr Harnett, an' mother an' I won't feel half so bad about goin' away when we've once left."

"But suppose I tell you that we want to buy the land on a speculation?" said George, with a smile. "There may be oil there, and we may want to sink a well."

"You wouldn't buy that land if it was oil you were after. One time I did think we might strike it, but those as know told me there wasn't any there, after they'd looked the property over," replied the old man, as with trembling hand he held the money toward George.

"Well, we'll buy the land, anyway," said the young engineer, with a smile. "You have said that it was worth that amount of money, and we may be able to sell it for more than we paid you, even if there isn't any oil. So have the deed made out, and leave it for me at Farmer Kenniston's."

Then, before the old man could make any further reply, George walked swiftly on, followed by Ralph, and Mr. Simpson was left to enjoy the generosity which enabled him still to retain the home that was made dear both to him and his wife by so many pleasant, and at the same time sad, recollections.

"Well?" he said, inquiringly, when he and Ralph had left Mr. Simpson some distance behind, wondering if the good fortune which had come to him was real or not.

"Well?" repeated Ralph, laughing. "I suppose you mean to ask if I am sorry for what I have done? Not a bit of it, for I can get father to give me money enough to pay for my ticket home, while, simply at the expense of a little enjoyment, we have made that old man happy. But how will it affect you, George? How can you search for your horses if you have no money?"

"From the united funds we have twenty-three dollars left, and if that is not enough then the horses must remain lost, for I would willingly have given them up rather than that Mr. Simpson and his wife should have been turned homeless into the world."

"If you think that way, then I think we have done a good thing, and we certainly ought to feel that we are of considerably more importance in the world, since we are landed proprietors. But we must look at the property before I go home, for I want to see it; and now come with me where I can write a letter to father, for the longer I stay now, the more deeply in debt shall I be."

"You're not going to shorten your vacation because of lending this money, Ralph, for you shall live with me, and the only inconvenience you will suffer will be the lack of money to spend."

Ralph was not so certain that he would become a burden on George simply because he had expended some money in charity; but just at that moment there was no need of discussing it; and he proposed that they return to the police head-quarters in order to find out if the detectives had learned anything about the team.

Greater good fortune awaited them here than they had thought possible, for when they returned the officers furnished them with the complete description of the men, and reported that they had, indeed, driven into Bradford the afternoon before, but, during the night, had returned by the same road they had come, stating that they were going to Babcock.