THE YOUNG EXPRESS AGENT
Our hero regarded the little pile of account books as if they
represented some long-lost, newly-found treasure.
He was very much astonished at their presence there. They were a
tangible reality, however, and no delusion of the senses, and his ready
mind took in the fact that someone had in an unaccountable manner
rescued them from the burning express shed, and mysteriously restored
them to the proper representative of the express company in the nature
of a vast surprise.
The edges of one of the books was scorched, which was the only evidence
that they had been in the flames.
They were all there, and Bart was very glad. He now had in his
possession every record of the transactions of the Pleasantville express
office since the last New Year's day.
"And the contents of the safe are all right, too, that writing says!"
exclaimed Bart; "now what does all this mean?"
The handwriting of the announcement was crude and labored, and the boy
felt sure he had never seen it before.
He glanced with some excitement at the ruins of the old express shed,
then he went over there. The embers had died down entirely, and the mass
of ashes and debris was sparkless and cold.
Bart went to a near railroad scrap heap and selected a long iron rod
crowbar crooked at the end. He returned to the ruins and began poking
the debris aside. He was thus engaged when some trackmen, lounging the
day away over on a freight platform, sauntered up to the spot.
"Why don't you work holidays, Stirling?" asked one of them satirically.
"Somebody has got to work to get this mess in shipshape order," retorted
Bart. "The writing said what was true!" he spoke to himself, as his
pokings cleared a broad iron surface. "The safe door is shut."
The safe lay flat on its back where it had fallen when the floor had
burned away. It was an old-fashioned affair with a simple combination
attachment, and so far as Bart could make out had suffered no damage
beyond having its coat of lacquer and gilt lettering burned off.
He leaned over and felt of its surface, which retained scarcely any heat
now.
"We heard the old iron box was caught open by the fire and everything in
it burned up," spoke one of the trackmen.
"I supposed so myself," said Bart, "but it seems otherwise. I wonder how
heavy it is?"
"Wait till I get some tackle," said one of the workmen.
He went away and returned with two crowbars and a pulley and block
tackle.
It was no work at all for those stout, experienced fellows to get the
safe clear of the ruins, and, with the aid of a big truck they brought
from the freight house, convey it to the new express quarters.
Just as the town bell rang out four o'clock, Mr. Leslie stepped over the
threshold.
He glanced about the place briskly, gave a start as he noticed the heap
of account books at Bart's elbow, and looked both pleased and puzzled as
his eyes lighted on the safe.
"Why, Stirling!" he exclaimed, "are you a wizard?"
"Not quite," replied Bart with a smile, "but someone else seems to be."
"Are those the office books we thought burned up, and the safe?"
"Yes, sir."
"How is this?"
Bart told of the mysterious return of the books and of the scrap of
writing that had led him to dig up the safe.
"That's a pretty strange circumstance," observed Mr. Leslie
thoughtfully. "How do you account for it?"
"I can't," admitted Bart, "except to theorize, of course, that someone
had enough interest in myself or the company to rush into the burning
shed and save the books and close the safe while I was getting my father
to safety."
"That's rational, but who was it?" persisted Mr. Leslie.
"Whoever it was," said Bart, "he has certainly proved himself a good,
true friend."
"Have you no idea who it is?" challenged Mr. Leslie sharply.
Bart hesitated for a moment.
"Why, yes," he admitted finally. "I am pretty sure who it is. I do not
know his name, but I have seen him several times," and Bart thought it
best to reveal to his superior all he knew about the roustabout who had
warned him of the burglary, who had assisted him in rescuing his father
from the burning express shed, and who had vanished suddenly as people
began to crowd to the scene of the blaze.
"I would like to meet that man!" commented Mr. Leslie.
"I hardly think that possible," explained Bart. "He seems to be afraid
to face the open daylight, and, as you see, has not even manifested
himself to me, except in a covert way."
"He is some poor unfortunate in trouble," said the superintendent. "If
you do see him, Stirling, give him that--from the express company."
Bart was sure that his mysterious friend could be no other than the
roustabout. He took the crisp ten-dollar bill, which the superintendent
extended with an impetuousness that showed he was a genuine,
warm-hearted man under the surface.
"That quarter of a dollar you gave him was a grand investment, Stirling.
And now to get down to business, for I haven't much time to spare."
The superintendent, seating himself on the bench, consulted his watch
and fixed his glance on Bart in his former stern, practical way.
"I saw your father at the hospital," he announced.
"Yes, sir?" murmured Bart anxiously.
"They are going to let him go home to-morrow. I am very sorry for his
misfortune. He is an old and reliable employee of the express company,
and we will find it difficult to replace him. I have thought over a
suggestion he made, and have decided to offer you his position."
"Oh, sir! I thank you," said Bart spontaneously, and the tears of
gladness and pride sprang to his eyes uncontrollably.
"Technically your father will appear in our service. I do not think the
company bonding him will refuse to continue to be his surety. You must
make your own arrangement as to legally representing him, signing his
name and the like, and of course you will have to do all the work, for
he will be helpless for some time to come. Are you willing to undertake
the responsibility?"
"Gladly."
"Then that is settled. This arrangement will be in force for sixty days.
If, at the end of that time your father is no better, I do not doubt
that we will give you the regular appointment, if in the meantime you
fill the bill acceptably."
"I shall do my best."
"And I believe you will succeed. I like you, Stirling," said Mr. Leslie
frankly, "and I am greatly pleased at the way you have stood in the
breach at a critical time, and protected the company's interests. You
will continue to draw fifty-five dollars a month, and use your judgment
in incurring any expense necessary to keep things running smoothly until
we get a new express office built. What is in the safe?"
Bart was familiar with its contents. He itemized them, including some
fifty unclaimed parcels of small bulk that had accumulated during the
year.
"Get rid of all that stuff," ordered the superintendent briskly. "I
shall advise all the small offices in this division to ship in all their
uncalled-for matter. Advertise a sale, make your returns to the company,
and start with a new sheet. I think that is all there is any need of
discussing at present, but I will send instructions by wire or mail as
the occasion comes up. Count me your friend as long as you show the true
manhood you have displayed to-day in a situation that would have rattled
and frightened most boys--and grown men, too. Good-by."
He was keen, practical business to the core, and no sentiment about him,
for he arose promptly with the farewell words, shook hands with Bart in
an off-hand way, and was gone like a flash to catch his train to the
city.
Bart stood for a moment in a kind of daze. The congratulatory words of
the superintendent, and the appointment to the position of agent,
stirred the dearest desires of his heart.
His great good fortune momentarily overwhelmed him, and he stood staring
silently after the superintendent in a grand dream of opulence and
ambition.
"I want you!" spoke a harsh, sudden voice, and Bart Stirling came out of
dreamland with a shock.