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 ARLY in October Bishwhang burst into the bank and rushed its length into Angus Burke’s office.

“It’s busted!” he said excitedly. “It hain’t no good! It’s petered out! You said you wanted to know.”

“What has petered out, Bishwhang? What are you talking about?” Angus asked.

“Them oil wells of the Judge’s. I heard you tellin’ Dave you was keepin’ track of ’em the best you could, and wished you could hear it quick if they fizzled…. Well, they fizzled. I heard the boss of it all say right out that ’twan’t no good. He says, says he, that the’ wan’t no ile—not enough to pay fer chawin’ tobaccer…. I heard him say it to Judge Crane, and the Judge was like to go crazy right on the spot. Yes, sir, that’s what happened, and I heard it….”

Angus questioned Bishwhang carefully, delved for corroborative detail. The facts as Bishwhang gave them seemed conclusive—the oil project was a failure; oil did not exist in