BART STIRLING, AUCTIONEER
It was "busy times" at the little express office at Pleasantville.
Bart had made home and lunch in half the noon hour, and entered upon a
renewal of his duties with a brisk hail to his subordinates and
assistants, Darry and Bob Haven.
On that especial day the services of both had been required. They had
arranged to give their full time, and Bart noted that never were there
more industrious and enthusiastic colleagues.
There was the sound of active hammering as Bart entered the office,
which Darry suspended long enough to remark:
"How's that for the audience?"
The office space proper containing the desk and the safe had been railed
off, the express stuff in and out packed conveniently in one corner,
and thus three-quarters of the room was given up solely to the
requirements of the day.
A dozen rough benches filled in half the space. Its other half, also
railed off, held a heap of packages, bundles, boxes, barrels, a mass of
heterogeneous plunder, packed up neatly, and convenient for handling.
Beside it was a raised platform, and this in turn held a rough board
table on which lay a home-made gavel, and beside this was a high desk
holding a blank book and a tin box.
What was "coming off" was the much advertised unclaimed package sale of
the express company.
Bart had followed out the instructions received from Mr. Leslie, the
superintendent, when he first took charge of the office at
Pleasantville, and the sale and its details had been quite an element in
his life during the past three weeks.
The various small offices in the division had sent in their uncalled for
express matter, and this was now grouped under the present roof.
Mr. Haven, an ex-editor, had written up a good "puff" for a local paper,
inserted gratis an exciting comment and anticipation in reference to the
impending sale, and Darry and Bob had printed fifteen hundred dodgers on
their home press, very neat and presentable in appearance, and these
had been judiciously distributed for miles around, and posted up in
stores and depots.
Bart had heard nothing further from the Harringtons--not even the echo
of a "thank you" had reached him. Pleasantville for a day or two had
been full of rumors as to the express robbery, but Bart decided to say
very little about it, and only his intimate friends knew the actual
circumstances.
McCarthy, the night watchman, however, accidentally spread Bart's fame
in the right direction. He had a cousin working for the express company
in the city to whom he told the story. It got to the ears of the
superintendent of the express company.
Bart received a letter from Mr. Leslie the next day, requiring a
circumstantial report of the stolen trunk. He answered this and received
a prompt reply, directing him thereafter to always report such
happenings at once, but his zeal and shrewdness were heartily commended,
and a check for twenty-five dollars for extra services was inclosed.
The twenty-five dollars Bart received was the nest egg of a fund being
saved up for his father's benefit.
Mr. Stirling could now distinguish night from day, and in a few weeks
they intended to take him to an expert oculist in the city for special
treatment.
Amid all this encouragement, Bart's life was filled with contentment and
earnest endeavor, and he tried to deserve the good fortune that was his
lot, and fulfill every duty thoroughly. About a week before the present
time he had received a brief letter from his roustabout friend, Baker,
dated from a town about fifty miles away, telling him that he had been
working on a steady job, but had some business in Pleasantville in a few
days, and asked Bart to write him as to the whereabouts of Colonel
Harrington.
Bart had replied to this letter, wondering what mystery could possibly
connect this homeless vagabond and the great ruling magnate of
Pleasantville.
"Now then, my friends," said Bart briskly, as he saw to it that
everything was in order for the sale, "the motto for the hour is quick
action and cash on delivery!"
About two o'clock there were several arrivals. Half an hour later the
place was pretty well filled. There were several village storekeepers,
some traveling men from the hotel, and railroad men off duty.
Nearly a dozen country rigs drove up to the platform, and the rural
population was well represented.
At three o'clock prompt, as advertised, Bart ascended the little
platform and took up the gavel.
Just then he nodded at a newcomer who entered the doorway and quietly
took a seat. It was Mr. Baker.
Bart was more pleased than surprised to see him. He had anticipated his
arrival the last two days.
Bart tapped the table to call the crowd to order and silence.
Then he looked again at the doorway, and this time with vivid interest.
He saw Lem Wacker shuffle into view, glance keenly around, fix his eye
on Baker, and steal into the room and sit down directly behind that
mysterious individual.