At noon the train arrived at the center of the Pennsylvania oil region. The evidences of the great industry were on every hand, and the sight of the tall derricks, the refineries, the storage tanks, and the pipes where natural gas was continually burning, were such interesting ones that the lads never grew tired of looking from the windows. They delayed longer than usual at a small station, and some of the passengers going out to see what the trouble was, reported that the locomotive had broken down and that it would take three hours to repair it. "Here's a chance to get out and see the country," suggested Jack. "What do you say?" "Fine," replied John. "I've always wanted to see an oil well." "Any objection to me going along?" asked Mr. Post, who had overheard the talk. "Guess not," replied Nat heartily. "Come along." The four had no sooner alighted from the train than a roughly-dressed man rushed up to the miner, grasped him by the hand, clapped him on the back with a sound like a small explosion, and exclaimed: "Don't tell me this is Josh Post!" "All right, Jim Baker, then I'll not do anything of the sort if you don't want me to," was the answer. "Well land of living! Where'd you come from?" asked Jim Baker. "Where you going?" demanded Mr. Post, not answering. "Going to do what I've been doing for the last ten years," was the reply. "Shoot a well." "So you're not dead yet?" asked Mr. Post. "The day isn't over," was the answer, "and I've got two big holes to drop the go-devil down." Then the two friends began to discuss old times with a vengeance, until the miner, suddenly remembering himself called a halt and cried: "Jim Baker, let me introduce you to three of the best friends I got. They saved a fool from being parted from his money," and, introducing the boys he explained what he meant. "You'd better get a nurse," said Mr. Baker sarcastically as his friend finished. "I've put an advertisement in for one. Got to be a good one though, to keep me straight." "Do you really shoot oil wells, with nitroglycerine, the way I've read about?" asked John Smith of Mr. Baker. "I sure do, son. Want to see me?" "I would like to, very much." "Excuse me," put in Mr. Post. "I think I hear some one calling me," and he made as if to hurry away. "There's not a bit of danger," called Mr. Baker. "Hold on, Josh, better come along." "Guarantee you'll not blow us up?" "Sure I will." "What, give the guarantee or blow us up?" asked Jack with a laugh. "I guess Josh knows he can trust me," said the well-shooter. "Now if you want to come along I've got room in the wagon, and the first well is only about a mile out. You'll have time to see it before they get the engine fixed." The boys at once decided they would go. It was a new experience, and, though they realized the danger, they felt comparatively safe with Mr. Baker. "I'll bring the wagon right around," said the shooter. "Wait here."