But I can believe anything of natural gas.

My! but it was beautiful when they turned on the full force of that well and shot a roman candle into the gas--that's the way they light it--and a plume of fire about twenty feet wide and seventy-five feet high, all red and yellow and violet, jumped into the sky, and that big roar shook the ground under your feet! You felt like saying: "'Don't trouble yourself; I'm perfectly convinced.

I believe in Moffitt.' We-e-e-ll!" drawled Fulkerson, with a long breath, "that's where I met old Dryfoos." "Oh yes!--Dryfoos," said March.

He observed that the waiter had brought the old one-handed German a towering glass of beer.
"Yes," Fulkerson laughed.

"We've got round to Dryfoos again.