Allen Chapman

“ Instead, he came to the strangest rigid pose Bart had ever seen a human being assume.
He stood staring, spellbound, at the partly open door of the nearest freight car. His cane had fallen from his hand, his head was thrown up as if he had been struck a stunning blow under the chin, and even at the distance he was, Bart could see that his usually red-puffed face was the color of chalk. Almost immediately, through the open doorway space of the freight car an arm was protruded.
Its index finger was pointed, inflexible as an iron rod, directly at the colonel. ”

“ Its proprietor was one Silas Green, once a switchman, later a prize fighter, always a hard drinker, and latterly so crippled with rheumatism and liquor that he was just able to get about.
Bart went into the place to find its proprietor just opening up for the day. The dead, tainted air of the den made the young express agent almost faint. As it vividly contrasted with the sweet, garden scented atmosphere of home, he wondered how men could make it their haunt, and was sorry that even business had made it necessary for him to enter the place. ”

“ Bart peered beyond the threshold.
McCarthy, the night watchman, sat asleep in a chair in a corner. Darry Haven was at the desk, a spruce, solemn-faced young man beside him.
"I'm here, Darry," announced Bart.
Darry turned with a joyful face. It fell as he glanced beyond his young employer to the empty platform.
"No trunk!" he murmured in a low, disappointed tone.
"Too heavy to carry around, you see!" smiled Bart lightly. "Who is this gentleman? Oh, I see—good afternoon, Mr. Stuart." ”

“ Bart went over to a heap of express matter, come in just that morning. There were several small crates, a box or two, and a very large trunk. Bart centered his attention on this latter. He stooped down as his quick eye observed a row of holes at one end, just under the hauling strap.
"Quiet, for a minute," he whispered warningly to Pope, who, big-eyed and trembling, resembled a man on the threshold of some most appalling discovery. ”

“ Bart looked pleased, then quite grave, and he put his hand resolutely behind him.
"I can't take it, father," he said. "You have a hard enough time, and I ought to pay you for the experience I'm getting here instead of being paid."
"Young man," spoke Mr. Stirling with affected sternness, but a twinkling in his eye, "you take your half-pay, make tracks, enjoy yourself, and don't worry about a trifle of a dollar or two. If you happen to drop around this way about nine o'clock, I'll be glad of your company home."
He slipped the money into Bart's pocket and playfully pushed him through the doorway. ”

“ A new spur was being constructed, and it divided to semi-inclose a substantial foundation which was the start of the new and commodious express office. The blue sky, smiling down on the busy scene, was no more serene than the prospect which the future seemed to offer for the successful young express agent.
With his last reckless crime Lem Wacker had ceased to be a disturbing element at Pleasantville. After two months' confinement he had limped out of the hospital, out of town, and out of Bart Stirling's life. ”

“ His face was bloodless and he was writhing with pain. One foot was clamped tight, a crushed, jellied mass between two bumpers.
It seemed that his foot must have slipped just as the forward freights were switched down. This had caused that frenzied yell. Perhaps the thought of the money had impelled him not to repeat it, but the little alarm clock which he carried in his pocket had betrayed him.
Bart took in the situation at a glance. He was shocked and unnerved, but he stepped close to the writhing culprit.
"Lem Wacker," he said, "where is that money envelope?"
"In my pocket," groaned Wacker. ”

“ Doctor Griscom from the hospital had dropped in for a few moments, and brought some news that lifted something of a cloud from the heart of the young express agent.
"I do not want to hold out any false hopes," he told Bart, "but there is a bare possibility that your father may not become totally blind."
"That is blessed news!" cried Bart fervently.
"It is all a question of time, and after that of skill," continued the surgeon. "Your father must have absolute rest and cheerful, comfortable surroundings; above all, peace of mind. ”

“ The express shed was a one-story, substantial frame building having two rooms. It stood in the center of a network of tracks close to the freight depot and switch tower, and a platform ran its length front and rear.
Framed by the window an active railroad panorama spread out, and beyond that view the quaint town of Pleasantville.
Bart had spent all his young life here. He knew every nook and corner of the place, and nearly every man, woman and child in the village. ”

“ Grimm sprang to his feet, jumping quickly about and swinging one arm wildly through the air, the parcel dangling from it like a bulldog hanging on to a coat tail.
"Murder!" he screamed. "Take it off! take it off!"
Bart had to step down to the rescue. Peter Grimm had drawn a patent mink trap, and was its first victim. He sneaked from the express office nursing his crushed fingers and kicking his unlucky purchase out into the road. ”

“ You've done something grand in the last twenty-four hours—don't lose sight of that in mourning over your sins, if you have any, or in running away from some shadow that scares you. I'm not the only one who thinks you're a hero, either. There's someone else."
"Is there?" murmured the roustabout weakly.
"There is. It is Mr. Leslie, the express superintendent. I told him about you. He left this ten dollars for you, and the way he did it ought to make you proud."
Bart forced the bank note into Baker's hand. The man was shaking like a leaf from emotion. ”

“ The colonel again regarded him penetratingly, and then got into the cab. He took the trouble of leaning out and waving his hand as the vehicle started up. He smiled in a sickly way at Bart, and once made a movement as if inclined to get out and once more suggest to the young express agent that he "forget it."
"That man is scared half to death over something," reflected Bart, as he took a short cut to regain the express office. ”

“ He recognized what the foolhardy escapade might have cost had that whirling cannon ball met a human, instead of an inanimate, target.
As it was, he easily calculated the indignation and resentment of the haughty village magnate who was given to outbursts of wrath which carried all before him.
"You've spoiled my Fourth," began Bart in a tumult. "I'll spoil your—"
"Cut for it, fellows! they're coming for us!"
"They" were the village officers. Bart had made a jump towards Dale Wacker, but the latter had faded into the vortex of pell-mell fugitives rushing away downhill to hiding. ”

“ Bart writhed, choked on the loose strangling filaments of cotton, but could not utter a word.
"Give me that package!" cried the colonel. "Stop! where are you going?"
Lem Wacker had bolted. The colonel stared in marveling astonishment as his cohort sprang through the open doorway. Bart had managed to wad the cotton in his mouth into a compact wet mass, enabling him to speak.
"Colonel Harrington!" he cried, "that man has not got the package you were after. He has instead stolen a money envelope for Martin & Company containing fifteen thousand dollars in currency, and is making off with it. ”

“ An explosion, a sharp flare, a keen shock filled the air, and before Bart could grip the man afresh he had sprung from the platform and vanished.
At the same instant the flag rod clattered to the boards, and a second later, rubbing his face free from sudden pricking grains of powder, Bart saw what had happened. ”

“ The only work he had ever done was here at the express office for his father. It was a daring prospect to imagine that he, a mere boy, would be allowed to succeed to a grown man's position and salary—and yet Bart had placed himself in line for it with every prompting of diligence and duty.
Mr. Leslie and the freight agent spent half an hour at the ruins. Bart could see by their gestures that they were animatedly discussing the situation, and they seemed to be closely looking over the ground with a view to locating a site for a new express shed. ”

“ Recalling what the Millville postmaster had told him, the young express agent was quickly aware that this second individual was Buck's brother, Hank.
Buck was the spokesman and leader. He came up near to Bart and looked him over critically.
"What you doing here?" he demanded, with a suspicious frown.
"Nothing," said Bart, with a grin.
"Where do you come from?"
"Me—nowhere!" chuckled Bart, winking deliberately and then, walking over to the horse, he fondled his long ears, with the remark: "If I had a dandy rig like you've got here, I bet I'd go somewheres, though!" ”

“ He tried to engage Baker in conversation, but the latter, his hands free now, paced the room nervously, acting like some caged animal.
"I'm afraid of him!" he declared. "I don't know that I am doing what is best. He's a bad man. He begs me to spare him for the sake of his family."
"Is this a matter where settlement will do any injustice to others?" asked Bart.
"None, now—it is past that."
"Then follow the dictates of your own judgment, Mr. Baker," directed Bart, "being sure that you are acting with a clear conscience."
Colonel Harrington, when he returned, brought two documents. ”

“ The young express agent did not have to search for the stolen money package. It protruded from Wacker's side pocket. As he glanced it over, he saw that it was practically intact. Wacker had torn open only one corner, sufficient to observe its contents. Bart placed the envelope in his own pocket.
"I'm fainting!" declared Wacker.
Bart crossed under the bumpers to the other side of the freights. He swept the scene with a searching glance, finally detected the shifting glow of a night watchman's lantern, and ran over to its source. ”

“ Pope. It's some live freight, likely. Can I take a look?"
"Sure—wish you would. I've been posting up on express business, you see, maybe that's the matter. Read about fellows hiding in boxes, and jumping out and murdering the messenger. Read about enemies sending a man exploding bombs, and blowing him to pieces."
"Nonsense, Mr. Pope!" said Bart, "you don't look as if you had an enemy in the world."
"I haven't," declared Peter Pope, "but every business man has his rivals, of course. I've heard that those city chaps have an eye on any fellow that makes a record like I'm making here. ”

“ He deposited the freezers inside the bunting-decorated inclosure, where half a dozen young ladies were posted to dispense the refreshments after the literary programme was finished.
Bart started to return with his empty cart the way he had come, but about ten feet from the platform paused for a moment to take in the exceptionally flowery sentiment that was being enunciated by the speaker of the day.
Colonel Harrington, it seemed, was the self-appointed hero of the occasion. The great man of the village was in his element—the eyes and ears of all Pleasantville fixed upon him. ”

“ Martin, Mr. A.B. Martin?" inquired Bart.
"Yes, it is—what do you want?"
"I have an express package for you," explained Bart.
"Oh, you have?" snapped Mr. Martin. "What the mischief do you mean waking a man up at midnight on a thing like that! Deliver it at the factory in the morning."
The speaker, muttering direfully under his breath, was about to slam down the window.
"Wait one moment, Mr. Martin," called up Bart sharply. "This is a special delivery, and a very important matter. I tender you this package in the presence of these witnesses, and it is a legal delivery. ”

“ Bart shook his head.
"Well, I'll tell you, it's a bill, do you hear? a bill. It's for eighty-five dollars, damage done maliciously on my private grounds, yesterday evening. It represents the bare cost of a new copper pedestal to replace the one you shot to pieces last night, and it's a wonder you are not in jail for murder, for had that cannon ball struck a human being—Enough! before I take up this outrage with the district attorney in its criminal phase, are you going to settle the damage, or are you not?"
"Colonel Harrington, I haven't got eighty-five dollars." ”

“ It was no light undertaking, but the boys entered into it with a vigor that was bound to command success.
"You see, father can help us a good deal," said Bob. "He used to be an editor, you know. And more than that, mother can make us whatever pictures we may need."
"Oh, you'll be right in it, I know," laughed Bart. "When you start your newspaper put me down as the first subscriber. Your subscription money is ready whenever you want it."
At that moment a messenger appeared.
"Letter for you," said he to the young express agent, and hurried about his business. ”