Хэммонд Иннес - Nothing to Lose [= Campbell’s Kingdom]

The lateness of the hour and the warmth of the heater was making us drowsy. We settled down in the seats then and slept till the first gray light of day filtered through the glade, then we covered the car with brushwood and started back up the trail to the Kingdom.

It was midday before we reached the top of the Saddle. It was snowing steadily and the wind was from the east. My heart was pumping erratically and I was so tired I found it difficult to stay in the saddle. When we got to the ranch-house I went straight to bed and stayed there till the following morning. Next morning my buttocks were sore and the muscles of my legs stiff with riding, but once I was up I felt fine. My heart seemed steadier and slower and I had recovered my energy. Garry Keogh spent the day out with Boy riding over the territory, planning his drilling site, working out in his own mind the chances of success. In the evening, after supper, we got down to business.

We had a roaring log fire going and hot coffee. Garry sat with his notes in his hand and a cigar clamped between his teeth, the bald dome of his head furrowed by a frown. “You think we’ll run into a sill of basalt at about four thousand?” He looked across at Boy.

“I think so,” Boy answered. “That or something like it stopped Campbell Number One in 1913. They were drilling by cable-tool and they just couldn’t make any impression. With a rotary drill—”

“It’s still a snag,” Garry cut in. He turned to me. “I think I told you, Bruce, I could stand two months operating on my own, no more. Well, that’s about the size of it. Boy here says if we’re going to hit oil, we’ll hit it at around five, six thousand. That’s okay, but this isn’t Leduc. We aren’t down in the plains here. There’s this sill he talks about, and down to that it’ll be metamorphic rocks all the way. It’ll be tough going.

We’ve no knowledge whatever of the nature of the strata at five thousand feet. We’re working entirely in the dark with minimum crew, no financial backing and against time.” He sat back, sucking at his cigar. “The only clue to what’s under the surface is this story of Campbell’s that thirty years ago he saw some oil on the waters of Thunder Creek.” He shook his head. “It’s a hell of a risk.”

“If Louis’ original report had been based on the results we’re now giving him — in other words, if those recording tapes hadn’t been switched — Roger Fergus would have drilled a well up here by now.”

“Sure and he would. But I’m not Roger Fergus. He could afford to lose any amount of dough. I can’t. I’m just in the clear and I mean to stay that way.” He rubbed his fingers along the line of his jaw. “The only thing that makes me go on considering the idea is this fifty-fifty proposition of yours, Bruce.” He stared at me with a sort of puzzled frown. “You know, if this location were just beside a good highway, I guess I’d be crazy enough to fall for your proposition, but bow am I to get my rig up here?”

“By the hoist,” I said.

He stared at me. “But you’ve told me about this fellow Trevedian. He owns the valley of Thunder Creek. He owns the road and he owns the hoist, and he doesn’t aim to have any drilling done up here. He’s got guards on the valley route and now you tell me you’re going to bring my rig up by the hoist.”

“I think it can be done,” I said. “Once.”

“I see.” His leathery face cracked in a grin. “You’re going to play it rough, eh? Well, I don’t know that I blame you, considering what you’ve told me. But I’ve got my equipment to think of.”

“It’s insured, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how the insurance company would view my acting outside the law, busting through two guard points and then slinging my equipment up through a mile of space to a mountain aerie. How do I get it down, anyway?”

“I don’t think there’ll be any difficulty about that,” I said. “If you bring in a well here, you won’t need to get it down. And if you don’t, then I think you’ll find Trevedian only too happy to give you a free passage out of the area.”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “That’s reasonable, I guess. What about the cable? Will it take my equipment?”

“I don’t know what the breaking point is,” I said. I turned to Boy. “You brought your trucks up by it last year. What’s your view? Will it take Garry’s rig?”

“I don’t think you need worry about that, Garry,” he said. “It’s like Bruce says. The thing is built to carry a heavy tonnage.”

Garry nodded slowly. “And how do you propose we get the use of this hoist? As I understand it, there’s a guard at the entrance to Thunder Creek, another at the hoist terminal, and near the terminal there’s a camp. I’ll have five, possibly six trucks—” He hesitated. “Yes, it will be at least six trucks if we’re to haul in everything we need for the whole operation, including fuel and pipe.” He shook his head. “It’s a heck of an operation, you know. We’ll need two tankers, for a start, and two truckloads of pipe. Then there’s the rig, draw works, all equipment, tools, spares, everything. And casing.” He hesitated and looked across at Boy. “We’d have to take a chance on that. In this sort of country it might be all right. Well, say six trucks. That’ll mean a minimum of four to five hours at the hoist. Now bow do you think you’re going to fix that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “At least, I think I know, but I’ve not worked out all the details yet. Anyway, that’s my problem. If you’re game to try. I’ll give you an understanding to get your equipment up here. If I fail I’ll undertake to make good any loss you have sustained. How’s that?”

“Very generous,” he said. “Except that I understand you only possess a few hundred dollars.”

“I’d sell the Kingdom,” I said, “to meet the obligation.”

“To Fergus? But—” He stopped and looked down at his hands. “Knowing how you feel about this place—” He hesitated, sucking on his cigar. Then he lumbered to his feet. “Okay, Bruce,” he said, gripping my hand. “You get my stuff up here and I’ll accept your proposition and drill you a well.” He hesitated, “That is, provided Win nick gives me a written report on the two traverses when they’re completed and that report is good.”

We settled down then to work out the details. Everything that would be required from the tune Garry came in, to the time he brought in a well, presuming that he did, would have to be trucked in one operation. It worked out at seven vehicles. Seven separate trips on the hoist, with difficult loadings before each trip. Boy was a help here, for he was able to give us some idea of the time he had taken to load his trucks and off-load them at the other end. It meant allowing forty minutes’ minimum for each truck, to cover loading, the trip up to the dam, off-loading and the running down of the empty cage. We went through all the stores we should require — tools, spares, pipe, casing, food, cigarettes, bedding, oils, mud chemicals suitable for all types of strata — an endless list. Bill and Don agreed to stay on and become roughnecks, so that additional personnel was reduced to six, which allowed two teams of four and the rest of us available to cook, bunt, stand in for anyone sick and generally organize the operation.

We finished just after two in the morning and went to bed, but for ages I couldn’t get to sleep, as my mind went over and over the lists we had made out. There would be no going down for things we had forgotten. We should be isolated up here in the mountains. Trevedian would see to that. Anything we had omitted from our lists we would have to do without. I saw no reason to scare Garry by explaining to him the lengths to which I should have to go to carry out my side of the bargain and get the rig up the hoist.