"But this time we tried a new plan. We used a 'go-devil-squib.' That's a sort of torpedo, holding about a quart of the glycerine, and it has a firing head of its own. We drop that down the pipe and when it hits on the top cannister it goes off, and sets off the rest of the explosive. But, somehow, it didn't work this time. The charge missed fire, so now we're going to drop down an old fashioned 'go-devil' and see what happens." Mr. Pertell asked, and readily obtained, permission to make moving pictures of the shooting of the well, and was also accorded the privilege of posing his company at the scene when the well did "spout." "I'll have to think up some sort of a scenario to go with it," the manager said. "Have some poor man get rich suddenly by striking oil on his land," suggested Russ, "and then show what he does with his money. You can easily get the later scenes." "Good idea--I will," exclaimed the manager. "We'll use this as the first, or opening, scene in--let me see, we'll call it 'The Rise and Fall of the Kerosene King.' How's that?" "Good!" cried Mr. DeVere. "All right. Paul, you'll be the king. But you'll have to start as a poor lad, and those good clothes won't do. Slip on a pair of greasy overalls--borrow them from one of the men--then you'll look more natural." Paul was soon fitted out as one of the oil men, and then, after a brief rehearsal, the improvised drama was ready to be taken on the sensitive film. A few preliminary scenes were made by Russ, and then, as word was given that the iron weight was about to be dropped on the cans of glycerine in the well-pipes, Mr. Pertell got his company as close to the derrick as was safe. Then, while Russ clicked away at the camera, one of the workmen called: "Let her go!" A man dropped the iron weight down the pipe and ran. "Look out, everybody!" he cried as he sprang away. "Are we safe here?" Mr. Sneed asked anxiously. "You're all right," one of the workmen assured him. "Oh, I'm so nervous!" faltered Ruth. "No need of it," answered Alice, as she leaned forward to watch the spouting of the oil from the well. There was a dull rumble beneath the surface of the earth. The ground seemed to heave and shake. It trembled, and Miss Pennington and Miss Dixon looked at each other with frightened eyes. "It--it's like an earthquake," observed Ruth. "Oh, look!" cried Alice. At that moment something like a dark cloud shot upward from the pipes and spread out, plume-fashion. At the same moment the air was filled with the rank odor of oil and gas. "She's a spouter! She's a spouter!" cried the men, in delight. "Cap her up!" came the command. But it was not easy to do at first, so great was the flow of oil, and considerable had run to waste when the internal pressure of natural gas, which forced out the oil, was reduced sufficiently to allow of the pipe being capped, and the flow of petroleum regulated.