Summary

Fred M. White The Master Criminal — The Cradlestone Oil Mills (1898)

Wild and visionary as some of his schemes were, Gryde had not been slow to see the practical vein beneath.
“Let me congratulate you,” Chasemore replied. “I have hawked that invention all over the States, frequently walking from town to town, and everybody laughed at me. I tell you the thing is workable—with a drill and a motor like mine I could bore a hole through the universe in a fortnight. And what is the cost? Practically nothing. But for that nitro-glycerine explosion I should have made it go. Without my eyes I am like a child. I shall have to go into the poor-house, I suppose.
Source: Wikisource

Fred M. White The Master Criminal — The Cradlestone Oil Mills (1898)

I’ve known oil found here to spurt for a day or two and then to pour out for good. But as for quantities!”
“I don’t want quantities,” said Gryde: “a small supply could suffice for me, and the cruder the better. Don’t suppose I’ve come along here to run a rival syndicate. I’ve got an invention, and I want my own springs to work it. We know nothing about petroleum yet.”
“I guess I do,” Cradlestone said drily.
“You think so, of course. All you rich men are so amazingly egotistical. I’m not thinking of oil as an illuminating power, but as a healing factor.”
Source: Wikisource

Fred M. White The Master Criminal — The Cradlestone Oil Mills (1898)

Gryde cried exultingly. “I’ve got all the oil, and they will have none; and they will have to come to me for terms. They can buy me out if they like—indeed, I shouldn’t know what to do with the stuff otherwise—but not a penny under four million dollars do I take for my property. And when one comes to think of all the trouble and worry I’ve had to go through, the money’s worth it.”
Gryde strode back to the hut in a curiously triumphant frame of mind. Chasemore was asleep. This was a pleasant surprise, because it enabled Gryde to get rid of his petroleum-soaked garments and destroy them.
Source: Wikisource

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