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Page 20
"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.
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