The devil's hat : a sketch in oil

Front matter

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DEVIL'S HAT. -.

Chapter I

Dear as remembered kisses after death, - and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more. — Tennyson.

I SHOULD tell you in the first place that I am a lawyer, and since you are not at all likely to meet me in the capacity of a client, I don’t mind telling you also that I think the world was quite right in its unflattering judgment of my professional skill. I am a poor advocate — poor as to merit, I mean, not money. I slowly came to an appreciation of this fact shortly after I was cast upon my own resources by the death of my uncle — my benefactor, who had one of the kindest hearts that ever beat within a human breast. Himself a bachelor, he had taken me, an orphan lad, and lavished upon me all the tenderness of his gentle nature. He petted me, anticipated and gratified my every whim, and, alas! was only too glad to exhibit his 9 idolatry on every occasion. I express regret for this now because I fear — indeed, I know — that, like many other worse lads than myself, I did not appreciate the matchless love conferred upon me; I came, in time, to regard it as my just due, and each one of his generous and constant proofs of affection but deadened my capacity for gratitude, and enhanced my unnatural estimate of my own importance. Boyish thoughtlessness, say you? Yes, but I shudder thinking of it, and redden with shame recalling my complacent regard of his unselfish and slavish worship of me. !

It is needless now to dwell upon those days of bitter regret — of burning remorse. Let me simply caution you, boy, whoever you are—be less heedless of the affection squandered upon you; be devoutly grateful for every loving kiss your | mother gives you; for the time shall quickly come when your eyes will be open to their priceless value, when you would gladly yield up your life for one such again — your soul for the chance to rain down sobbing kisses on the quivering lips that are no more.

It was only when I saw him all cold and white in his coffin that the sharp pangs of remorse seized hold of me. In a sudden rush of memory,

I seemed to see all the smiles he had ever showered upon me, to hear again all his countless expressions of loving admiration and sympathy, and, almost palsied with the poignant sense of my ingratitude, I fixed my hot eyes on the calm ashen | face before me. “ O, uncle! uncle!” I cried, bathing his dear dead face with my tears; ‘only live again and let me prove my love!

They handed me this letter that he had written a week before his death : —

“My dear boy,” it read, “forgive me if you ean. I had fondly hoped to see you again, but I cannot bear todo so now. ‘The great desire of my later life has been to leave you, if not a fortune, at least a sum of money sufficient to insure you a comfortable living. But now, when I had almost succeeded, I have failed. In my foolish haste to win this fortune for you, I risked too largely, and lost. No matter about the details. But I am broken-hearted, my boy; I feel as if I had robbed you — you, whom I love more than all else on earth or in Heaven beside.

. “My old attorney will deliver to you ten thousand dollars—it is all I could save from the wreck. May God forgive me! but I shall die without forgiving myself. Oh! how I long to see you — to hear you laugh and talk in the old familiar way. It makes me dizzy, my boy, to think of such happiness. — But I know you will pity my weakness, and not blame me much when I am dead—and oh! my darling Jack, let me die believing that you will come when my eyes are closed, and will bend over my coffin, and kiss me full upon the lips and say, ‘I forgive you.’” God! the agony I suffered reading this.

Chapter II

Meph. — But what profession is your choice ? Stu.— Law shall not ever have my voice. Meph.—In this, I own, you show discerning: I know, and do not love, this learning. — Goethe’s Faust.

So it came that at dusk of a summer day I was strolling among the straggling houses of the marvellous mushroom town of Sandhole. Here Ihad been for some weeks seeking an opportunity to make my fortune. I had not come to ply my profession, for I well knew the fugacious nature of these settlements.

A prospector, “wildcatting” in the depths of the woods, “strikes oil,” and in a few days a wondrous life and light burst out in the black silence of the forest. The sun shines on clear- _ ings where before a chance ray has not penetrated for half a century. Countless derricks and-round red oil-tanks spring up like monster fungi; and presently, ushered by the clinking of drills and wheezing of engines, arrive the regular and essential constituents of an oil-town population. 13

Come the speculators, scouts, landlords, and venders of backwoods necessaries. Then, for a time, the life of the place proceeds swiftly and at high pressure. Saloons, theatres, and churches appear and flourish harmoniously together; but alas! the delenda est hurled at Carthage is applicable to every oil-town. The supply of petroleum ebbs, and proportionately to the number of wells sunk in the oil-yielding sand. Then, as the production diminishes, and many fortunes are lost and few won, the unstable community slowly takes flight; the larger hotels close; the theatres and churches are demolished for their lumber; the taverns are removed to freshly discovered fields; a few bankrupt and broken-hearted speculators linger for a while at their “dusters ”’; but soon the large-eyed owls hoot in entire solitude from the top of the gaunt derricks, while the wind whistles a requiem through the blackened branches of the trees.

The petroleum excitement was at its height; 7 the rage for money-making had taken possession of the soberest minds; husbands encouraged their wives to buy “on margin” with their pin-money ; more than one clergyman had dropped his profession to go on ’change at Oil City or Titusville ;

railroad conductors chatted glibly and incessantly of “flyers” and “certificates” ;— and where, then, more likely than to Sandhole, whence issued the most wonderful stories of riches gotten in a day, should an orphan youth of lively imagination drift to seek his fortune? Not since my arrival had I felt so strongly the contagion of the oil-fever as I did on this quiet summer evening.

A few days before, I had identified among the stream of fresh arrivals at the ‘“ Bullwheel” "Hotel, an old acquaintance and former fellowstudent-at-law, Joyce Selden.. I was really delignted to see him, and he returned my greeting with a warmth that surprised and gratified me. For we had not been close associates while students, since our tastes were widely divergent. In those days, Selden was too sober and studious forme. If he ever indulged in any of the follies of youth, innocent or otherwise, I was never informed of the fact; and hence it was that we who devoted but a tithe of our time to Kent, Williams, and the Reports were wont to look upon him as an interloper.

The eminent lawyer in whose office we studied rather encouraged us in our idle habits. He had graduated a generation of youthful attorneys, and exacted from all but one condition of behavior, that of a mild kind of adulation of himself. He was quite famous—more, perhaps, as an orator and conversationalist than as an advocate; and it then seemed very proper that we should prostrate ourselves mentally before him. Of medium height and compact build, he was cursed with the most sinister countenance I ever beheld; and it was whispered in the office that so despondent had he once become because of this misfortune, he had resolved while abroad to retire into a monastery; but a certain titled lady was keen enough to discern the genius that was slumbering for want of stimulation, and, partly, as she afterwards claimed, from motives of pure charity, married him. His fame and fortune were so firmly secured to him at the time of my novitiate in his office, that he took his ease, indeed, albeit his practice was very extensive, larger, I think, than that of any other attorney in the Quaker City —a most astonishing community, which started proudly forth in its career, settling disputes, as became Friends and brotherly lovers, by arbitration, and has now arrived at such a pass that its citizens have need of two thousand lawyers to fleece them while they are bickering.

This otiwm cum dignitate he managed by means of a dual method, not entirely original with himself: namely, of delegating, in the first place, to his students (for the benefit of research and practice) the task of preparing all the briefs ; and, secondly, by a systematic postponement of issue, with a view to the final compromise of suits — which plan had this admirable quality in it, of expanding fees. Thus nothing more was necessary than that the Hon. Hewson Dilster, LL. D., should exhibit his influential and eloquent presence in the courts as the cases came up for argument. His word had such weight with all the judges that, if he so desired it, the merest symptom of a cold on his part was quite sufficient reason, in their judgment, for the postponement of a hearing; while I once heard poor old Mortmane plead vainly in a husky whisper for one week’s delay, until his doctor - could stamp out the seeds of pneumonia that were in him.

It was the Honorable Hewson’s custom to sin-, gle out from each fresh batch of students the one who exhibited the surest signs of docility, assiduity, and poverty. Him he exempted from the payment of a tuition fee, and even subsidized; making him his private secretary, confidential clerk, office valet, and scapegoat — from whom he exacted miscellaneous service, from the tying of a cravat to the cabling of his London tailor. And this was the bill that Joyce Selden had filled when we were cast together as students-at-law in the office of Hewson Dilster.

Notwithstanding our quondam relations, we

now met cordially in Sandhole. I was surprised at the great change in his bearing and appearance. He was neatly, even fashionably dressed, and, instead of the brow knitted with premature care, that used to deform his really handsome face, I now confronted a gentleman of smooth skin, mobile features, and most engaging manners. At first, still possessed of my old feeling of superiority towards him, I confess I had set out to patronize him; but, with faultless tact, he had, by imperceptible degrees, completely turned the tables upon me, and, at the end of our first interview, I found myself asking his advice, praising the shrewdness of the plans he suggested, and inwardly admiring the charm of his address.

And on this evening, as we wended our tortuous way from the “Bullwheel” towards the edge of the town, past the noisy weatherboard saloons and gambling dens, I could not help glancing furtively at his calm dark face, and wondering at the strange mutations of time. We had nothing to gossip about, no news of the adventures of common friends to retail, for our social habits, as I have said, had formerly led us into different paths. Indeed, it was astonishing to me that he could look so well and self-possessed in his good clothes. Our only allusion to past times was the simple intelligence, which he rather gingerly vouchsafed me when we first met, that he had broken loose from the Hon. Hewson Dilster. He was also come to Sandhole upon the same errand as myself; but I soon discovered there was decidedly more method in the madness of his Argonautic trip than in mine. He was fully informed upon all the preposterous superstitions of the “wildcatters”; he smoothly, and with no offensive obtrusion of manner, acquainted me with the two geological theories which pretended to account for the deposits of oil; he was thoroughly conversant with the details and business of sinking wells, and had figured, he modestly said, with no little success on the ’changes of the neighboring oil-centres. He spoke quite confidentially, but all the time he had only half my attention, for the night was so glorious, the stars so bright, and the life around

me so strange. |

“And now, Ogden,” he said, after a silence of some minutes, while we retraced our steps through the noisy and irregular thoroughfares, “you have some money, you say, and are here to invest it advantageously. How much have you?”

“Nearly eight thousand.”

“Not a great deal, to be sure. Of itself, a very insufficient sum to enable you to compete in this place with men who trifle with ten — twenty —fifty times that amount; and who have, besides, that invaluable capital, experience.”

I hastened to assure him that when I came to Sandhole I had no idea of competing with these astute and wealthy gentlemen. I simply came to look about me, and had not been at all certain that I should be able to make a profitable venture with my scanty capital. Indeed, I now felt, marking the great number of ruined

THE DEVIL’S HAT. Bow’ | investers on every hand, that if I departed without risking my money at all, I might prove, in the end, to have been not a little lucky and wise.

* At this he began whistling in a low tone ;—and I feel guilty, remembering that I have done him the injustice of not mentioning this talent. He whistled like no one else, with his lips slightly apart, as though he were singing; and the notes fell soft, clear, and sweet as a bird’s—so like a flute, yet imbued with the tender, sympathetic undertone of the human voice. We_ used to think it the only accomplishment he had, and I have no doubt that it was this which first attracted Dilster towards him. Certain it is that I had more than once observed the old diplomat leaning back in his easy-chair, with half-closed eyes, listening enrapt, like the rest of us, while Selden, lost in his work, and all unconscious of his delighted audience, whistled some bewitching melody. I was often tempted to outrage the decorum of the office by bursting into applause; and once, I recall, after Selden had rendered Schubert’s “Serenade” with unusual sweetness, Dilster himself did not attempt to conceal his delight, but, sitting bolt-upright in his chair, and rubbing his rheumy eyes, called out : —

“Bravo! Selden, you’re an ass. Let law go to, sir. Why should you grind along like this, when you can whistle your way through the world on flowery beds of ease? You can, by Jove, sir.”

And this much I do know, that, after each one of Selden’s musical efforts, I mentally voted him a good fellow, and regularly determined to cultivate his friendship. But, following the notice taken of his talent by Dilster, Joyce withdrew, if possible, more closely to himself; he whistled but rarely, seeming to control his impulse to do so with considerable discomfort to himself.

But I have wandered sadly away from Sandhole, seeing I only meant to say that after I had disclaimed any settled intention of speculating in oil, Selden had simply begun to whistle softly that divine air from “ Martha” — “Ah! che a vot.”

We had now almost reached the * Bullwheel” ; and the jarring noises of the town, its laughter, profanity, and ribald song were here blended into one discordant hum, and the atmosphere was heavy with the pungent odor of petroleum. Suddenly Selden ceased whistling, and, grasping me by the hand, said : —

“Pardon me, Ogden, but you seem different from what you were at Dilster’s. You seem to have coolness and sound judgment. You have certainly managed to keep your head, among all this mania for speculation ;— which I regard as very remarkable, considering how contagious frenzy is. Now, I believe I can put you in the way of multiplying many times the amount of money you say you have. If you care to know how, come with me to my room.”

Chapter III

For Fortune is a woman, and must be hectored to keep her under, and it is visible every day she suffers herself to be managed by those who are brisk and audacious.

— MACHIAVELLI’s Prince.

THE rough weatherboard hotel was crowded with guests. Outside, there were groups of scouts and flashily dressed speculators—some seated smoking in arm-chairs in the’ middle of the street, others erect and conversing in whispers. In the open space before the hotel, two iron tubes had been driven into the earth to tap the natural gas, and out of these there poured, night and day, two roaring sheets of flame, whose scarlet glow, blending with that of many others scattered about the town, gave the place the appearance of a vast conflagration.

I halted upon the threshold for an instant, and, glancing over my shoulder, caught such a vivid impression of the unique scene that it can never depart my memory. The clear blue-and-black sky, sparkling with little suns, ended abruptly high above me where the hill kissed it. Here and 24 there sporadic groups of swaying pines bent in and out of the scarlet glow, which lay all around with lurid effect upon the hillside, bathing in blood-tint the skeleton derricks, whose fantastic arms swung up and down with a petulant creaking. Everywhere, on hill-top and far off in the valley, where the natural gas had been coaxed to the surface by piping, or had found a fortuitous exit, burned the great bale-fires with the noise of rushing waters. The clinking of glasses; the screeching of dissonant violins; the boisterous laughter of maudlin oil-men; the crude cabin outlines, lighted from within as well as without; the groups of talkers in weird silhouette, —all these sounds and shapes were mingled confusedly in the impression I caught from my single backward glance.

*“ How was she spouting when you left her, Dick?” a voice called from the piazza, as Selden and I passed through the bar-room.

Selden paused on the other side of the partition, and listened attentively.

“S’t you, Bill? at a spanking rate. Easily fifteen hundred,’ — came the answer, delivered in a careless tone by a blue-shirted scout at the bar. ©

I saw a smile on my companion’s face when we gained his room, and the glare of the gas fell upon him. A gas stove, fixed in the centre-of the cramped apartment served also as a lamp.

“Sit on the bed, Ogden,” said he, in a quick, alert way. ‘I will soon let you into my scheme. In the first place, are you at all acquainted with the methods of wildcatting ?”

“T only know what any superficial dhsevenii in these regions would be likely to learn in a few days; what a ‘duster’ is, for instance; a ‘sand-pump,’ and a ‘bull-wheel.’ But, I know nothing of the mysteries of ’change —”

“Tt isn’t essential that you should. As for a thorough knowledge of the processes incident to the production of petroleum, you can have it ina day. A derrick, with drilling apparatus, is erected on the spot where the well is to be sunk, with out-houses for the protection of machinery ; ‘tubing’ and ‘ casing’ are introduced as fast as the hole is bored, and when the oil-bearing sand is reached an oil-pump is inserted in the place of the sand-pump; the amber liquid flows into tanks, where it is gauged, and occasionally charges of nitro-glycerine are exploded in the well to stimulate the flow. If no petroleum is found in the well, it is a duster—and if the unfortunate gentleman engaged in the enterprise has sunk many such, and speculated heavily on the strength of them, he is a ruined man. This, in a nutshell, is all there is to it.”

He spoke slowly, distinctly, confidently. Pausing while he lighted a cigar, he resumed in the same tone: —

“T think it augurs well that we can take note of the many failures here with the same coolness and interest that we do of the marvellous successes. We are not handicapped by over-confidence or enthusiasm. Speaking from a purely business standpoint, I believe that, in estimating our capacities for engaging in this speculative life, we may fairly count upon an unusual degree of level-headedness and worldly wisdom. If those men shouting out there on the street can turn their wits to such golden account, why not we, with our trained tact and legal sagacity. I know very well that mere learning does not of itself qualify a man to compete with these self-reliant ‘wildcatters’; but I am convinced that the educated professional men, who are now swarming here, will eventually control in all the operations of these regions. Already, you observe, many of the scouts and ordinary laborers are the brightest fellows here;—some of them college graduates and clerks from the cities. But we have had the advantage of training in a profession which, of all others, is best calculated to develop those traits which will be of most value to us here. I think, in other words, that we know how to deal with, and, if needs be, to influence men.”

“Bravo!” said I. ‘You have proved me to be a greater man than I suspected. We are then a pair of Rodins, are we?”

“Now, Ogden, see here; don’t laugh. I am no visionary, as you ought to know. I am simply estimating our fitness for a certain enterprise. But Dll stop vaporing, if you don’t like it, and go to the heart of the scheme at once.

“T have been a diligent observer in the oil-country, studied carefully its geological features, and, through a series of sound premises, have finally arrived at the conclusion that petroleum is a substance kindred to coal in its formation. and deposit. This is the theory of those geologists who have thoroughly investigated the subject. But I have also come to believe that the oil-yielding sand-rock has been naturally deposited across this region— perhaps across the continent—at an angle of about forty-five degrees south-west and north-east.

“Now, granting the correctness, or, at least, the plausibility, of my hypothesis, it is evident that the production at Sandhole has reached its high tide. For a week past there has been a steady ebb in the yield; most of the wells recently sunk have proved ‘dusters’; work on those at present drilling has been eased — indeed, by some entirely suspended; the market is rising; and —the surest indication of all that there is a growing belief in the approaching limit of the production of this centre — land on the outskirts can be procured for a mere song.—A word more, and you have my plan. Did you overhear what that scout in the bar-room said to his friend as we passed through? It was in reference to the flow of the new well, ‘ 423,’ just sunk a little to the right of Gas Hollow. He said it was gushing ‘at a spankin’ rate.’ I expected it—I knew it;—#it is in accordance with my theory, and had to occur. From the location of ‘423’ to the base of ‘The Devil’s Hat’ hill —a full mile and a half—all the land has been taken and worked. But the hill itself remains in a state of nature. The poor fools call it a ‘mountain-spur,’ and rightly believe it impossible to strike oil on a mountain, because of the volcanic disturbance of the strata. So they have all given it the cold shoulder. But the truth is that it lies exactly in the way of my imaginary line of prolific oil-rock; and I | know it to be only a harmless elevation —an isolated table-land—a rock-cap, covering perhaps the richest deposit of petroleum in this region. Moreover, I have as much as persuaded its present owner, a, man by the name of Garrow, to part with it to me for a trifling sum, as the alleged site for a summer hotel. He is interested in the proposed railroad, and has a fine idea of making Sandhole a permanent and wealthy settlement, doubtless for political reasons. Now, will you risk $5000 to make a fortune? With double that sum we can purchase the Devil’s Hat, make believe to clear it for the erection of a handsome hotel, and, meanwhile, be really sinking our ‘Mystery’ well.

“J have already a friend —a battered old scout —who will secure us several trustworthy laborers, and secretly introduce the drilling machinery, piece by piece. This is the rough outline.

Now, what say you? Can you trust me?—will you join me?”

He did not betray the least excitement of manner or tone, but sat perfectly still in his chair, with one limb over the.other, and his body bent slightly forward. Yet there was an earnest confidence in his voice that aroused my enthusiasm. I believed in him and his scheme, and felt, when he had ended and made his appeal to me, so much indebted to him for the opportunity he offered, that I sprang from the bed,

‘and, grasping his outstretched hand, said, with honest gratitude : —

“Selden, I place implicit confidence in you. Let’s ‘lump’ our money, and work the Devil’s Hat together.” He wrung my hand, and we were partners.

Chapter IV

Host. —...AmTI politic? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel ? — The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3, Scene 1.

THE Devil’s Hat arose abruptly, like a great wart, from the high plain in the rear of Sandhole. It was perhaps more than a mile in circumference, and would average a height of two hundred feet. Around its entire face, at irregular distances and elevations, were weather-worn fissures and hollows, which gave it, on rainy days, a grotesquely battered look, and rendered it, likewise, very difficult of ascent. Indeed, there were but two easy approaches — a wagon-road by the southern side, and a narrow path leading comfortably up the slope from the west. On the well wooded top, several hundred yards back of the exposed level spot which we had selected as the site of our proposed hotel, there was a deep, wide ravine, known as the “Pit.” Near the surface, a spring gushed from out the black rocks, and splashed noisily down in cascades to the bottom, where 32 it disappeared in the earth with a rush and a whirl, bounding forth again into the light as a little brook, somewhere over in the woods below. And it was in this “Pit” that we b decided to sink our “Mystery” well.

For a fortnight we had diligently prosecuted the deception of building the hotel; digging its foundations and hauling lumber from the neighboring mills. The editor of the Sandhole Spouter, having carefully inspected our plans, published a flattering description of the coming hostlery, that was designed at once to embellish and perpetuate the settlement. At first, there was constantly a band of idlers at hand _ to watch and discuss our operations; but their interest, presently, flagged; it was a long walk from Sandhole, and after the first week we were left alone with our workmen. These we then gradually dismissed, replacing them with competent oil-men, forwarded to us from Oil City, by Bedford, our confidential broker. Through him also we had purchased our engine and drill, and, without arousing the least suspicion, had received them,.boxed carefully in parts, by a circuitous route, and labelled as machinery for use in the hotel. Then, laboring only at night, our men had erected the derrick in the Pit, and housed the engine; and soon we could detect at the hotel — where, to guard against the vigilance of the scouts, we maintained an appearance of building — the pant of the engine and the muffled click of the drill. Directly above the derrick, we threw across the mouth of the Pit a rough platform of logs and brushwood, which served at the same time as a bridge, and a screen against the gaze of inquisitive strangers. The temporary shanties in which we lived were built about the lower end of the opening, so that the chance observer would attribute to them the thin columns of smoke and steam which might really issue upwards at times from the engine-house. It was natural for us to locate near the only convenient ‘water-supply; and, besides, we sank pipes in the ground to capture the natural gas, and at night the Devil’s Hat was thus illuminated with such a weird effect that we ourselves became presently persuaded that it was in truth a very picturesque situation for a hotel. The circle of spouting gas-jets around the mouth of the Pit was especially striking; and I used to wander at night down to the clearing, and, stretching myself out on the cool grass, watch the phantom figures high above, on the edge of the vast black mound, move .about and sway in the glow of the flame. Dante himself would surely have regarded this as a choice entrance to the Bottomless Pit.

We were constantly on the lookout for interlopers, particularly the oil-scouts, whose keen ears, we knew, could detect afar off, not only the clinking sound of the drill, but even the throbbing flow of the oil itself, computing to a barrel, as they lay listening on the ground, the daily yield of a well. But we were rarely disturbed, and never caught napping; for we had so disciplined our men that, when an alarm was given, the belt would be instantly released from the fly-wheel in the engine-house, the drill checked, and, while everything became suddenly silent in the Pit, our laborers at the hotel hammered and sawed as though possessed. _ Thus a month had almost passed away without noteworthy incident. I had not confined my attention strictly to the Devil’s Hat; I roamed over all the surrounding country. No one could honestly call the oil-regions picturesque; it is nothing but woods, woods—much of these scrubby and mean — but pine-woods, nevertheless, with here and there a clearing. And through them I took long walks, finding my way by blazed paths, or by following the lines of clicking oilpipes, which wriggled stiffly over the land, like endless black serpents. And always there was a subtle garlicky odor in the air.