The water-well man came, offering to drill a four-inch well for $2.12 a foot; and Dad signed a contract with him, on the basis of his making so many feet a day, and getting a bonus if he went above that, and paying a forfeit if he fell below it. After which Dad and Bunny drove over to pay a visit to Mr. Jeremiah Carey, a rancher near Roseville, who was chairman of the county board of supervisors, which had to do with the all-important question of road construction.
A great part of the road passed through Dad’s own property; and it had been Bunny’s naive idea that Dad would call in a contractor, and pay the price, as in the case of the water well. But Dad said no, that wasn’t the way you did with roads; it was a public road, running from Paradise to Roseville, down along the slide, and it would be graded and paved at public expense. To be sure, Dad would use this road more than anyone else, but also he would pay some of the taxes; all the people owning property along the slide would pay a share, and the new road would increase the value of their property.
All this Dad explained, first to Bunny, and then to Mr. Carey, a friendly old fellow who grew apricots and peaches on the slopes of a ridge overlooking the San Elido valley. Mr. Carey was evidently pleased to meet a famous oil operator, and he took them up to the house and made them sit comfortable in big porch chairs, and called to Mrs. Carey to bring some lemonade for Bunny. Dad produced his gold-foil cigars, and told the chairman of the county board of supervisors what a great thing it was going to mean for this whole section if oil developments came in; he told about the Bankside lease at Prospect Hill, and the million and more which he had paid to the Bankside family, and the palace on the beach front which Mr. Bankside was now occupying; you could see the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Carey open wider and wider, as Dad visioned this slope covered with a forest of oil-derricks. Absolutely, the whole thing depended upon one problem, that of roads. Manifestly, you couldn’t bring in derrick materials and drilling tools and heavy machinery over that sheep-track which they now had, and which had jist broken a spring on Dad’s new motorcar; nor could the county expect Dad to improve a public road at his own expense, in order to have the privilege of paying tens of thousands of dollars of new taxes into the county treasury. To all of which Mr. Carey agreed.
Dad went on to say that it was a question of time; if the county authorities were going to dillydally along, and keep him waiting—why then, he had plenty of other tracts he could drill, and he would keep this here Paradise place for a quail-preserve. Mr. Carey looked worried, and said he’d do his best, but of course Mr. Ross understood that public affairs didn’t move in a hurry, you had to issue bonds to pave a new road, and there would have to be a special election to vote them. Dad said that was what he had come to find out about; if that was the case, it was all off so far as he was concerned. Wasn’t there some way this work could be done at once, on the basis of its being repairs to an old road, instead of new paving? And Mr. Carey said of course, they had funds for repair work, he didn’t know just how much, he’d have to consult his associates on the board.
Mr. Carey got up and strolled down to the car with Dad and Bunny; and as they stood there chatting, Dad took out an envelope from his pocket, and said: “Mr. Carey, I’m asking a lot of your time, and it ain’t fair you should work for nothing. I hope you won’t take offense if I ask you to let me pay your gasoline and tire-cost while you’re running about a-seein’ to this.” Mr. Carey hesitated, and said he didn’t know whether that would be exactly proper or not; and Dad said it would be understood, it was jist for Mr. Carey’s time, it wouldn’t change his judgment as to what should be done; they would have other dealings, no doubt, and perhaps some day Dad would come wildcatting on Mr. Carey’s ranch. The other put the envelope into his pocket, and said Dad would hear from him soon.
Now Bunny had been taking a course in school which was called “civics,” and had learned all about how the government of his country was run. There had been many discussions in class, and among other things they had mentioned “corruption of public officials.” Bunny—of course without any hint that he had ever had personal knowledge of such a thing—had asked the lady teacher about the possibility of a business man’s paying a public official extra sums for his time and trouble in public matters; and the lady teacher had been shocked by such a suggestion, and had declared that it would be bribery without question. So now Bunny told Dad, and the latter explained. It was the difference between a theoretical and a practical view of a question. The lady-teacher had never had to drill an oil well, her business didn’t depend on moving heavy materials over a sheep-trail; all she did was jist to sit in a room
