"I don't want too much of a crowd along," he said. "If anything comes of it you can visit the place later. At present you had better try to amuse yourselves around the town. And do try to keep out of trouble," he added, with a smile. Left to themselves, the four young Rovers visited the railroad station and then drifted into the shooting gallery. Here they got up a little contest among themselves, shooting at the longest range target the gallery afforded. In this contest, which lasted the best part of an hour, Jack came out ahead, making seventeen bull's-eyes out of a possible twenty-five. Next to him came Randy with a score of fifteen. "Say, what kind of a prize do I get?" questioned Andy, who had hit the bull's-eye but nine times, two less than Fred. "You get a decorated cabbage head, Andy," replied his twin. "A cabbage head and two lemons." "I don't care, I saved the target for the man, anyway," grinned the fun-loving Rover. "The one Jack shot at is all mussed up." And at this sally the others had to laugh. After lunch the boys sat down to write some letters and to read some newspapers which had just come in. In the news was word of some big oil well strikes at a place about forty miles distant. "Gosh! look at this, will you?" cried Fred, pointing to the article. "Two wells just came in, and each of them good for twelve hundred barrels of oil a day! Now that's what I call something like!" "Wouldn't it be glorious if my dad could strike something like that?" "I wish we could hit half a dozen wells, then our dads could start The Rover Oil Company. We'd make money hand over fist. Wouldn't that be grand!" "You keep on and you'll be dreaming of oil," laughed Jack. "It certainly is the land of luck," returned Randy. "It doesn't look like the land of luck for this fellow," remarked Fred, pointing to a ragged and unkempt individual who had just entered the reading room of the hotel. The man was about middle age, and had a most decidedly dejected appearance. "I was wondering if you young gents couldn't aid me a little?" he whined, coming up to Jack and Randy. "I've been playing in mighty hard luck lately. I haven't had a square meal in two days." "What's the matter--can't you get a job?" asked Jack. "Job! What do you mean?" questioned the unkempt individual in wonder. "If you're out of luck, why don't you go to work?" "Say, maybe you don't know who I am!" exclaimed the man indignantly. "You're right there. Who are you?" "I am Wellington Jonkers, the man who opened the Little Kitty and the Fat Herring. You must have heard about those properties. We sold eighty thousand shares of one and sixty thousand shares of the other." "What at?" questioned Randy. "Two cents a share?"