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Page 28
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.
CHAPTER XII
THE MYSTERIOUS MR. BAKER
The little express office looked good to Bart as its precincts again
sheltered him.
Things appeared better and clearer to him now than at any time during
the past twenty-four hours, and his heart warmed up as he put his papers
and books in order, saw that the safe was secured, and decided to close
up business for the day.
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. I shall watch his case, and when
I see the first indication of the services of some skilled specialist
being of benefit to him I will tell you. It will cost you some money,
but I will do all I can to make the expert reasonable in his charges."
"Don't think of that," said Bart impetuously. "With such a hope in view
I am willing to work my finger ends off!"
Bart was, therefore, in high spirits as he left the express office,
padlocking the door securely.
He was anxious to get home and then to the hospital, to impart to his
mother and father in turn the assurance that they had a bread-winner
able to work and glad to do so for their benefit.
Amid the buoyancy of the relief from the continuous strain and troubles
of the day, Bart was bent on a quick dash for home when he remembered
something that changed his plan.
"The roustabout, the poor fellow that I've got the ten dollars for, the
good fellow, if I don't mistake, who saved the books and the contents of
the safe!" exclaimed Bart. "Actually, I had forgotten all about him for
the moment."
Bart stood still thinking, looking around speculatively, his fingers
mechanically touching the bank note in his pocket which Mr. Leslie had
given him in trust.
He did not reflect long. He went at once to the freight car whence he
had seen the ragged arm extended two hours previous, and looked in.
Back at one end were some broken grapevine crates, and it was dim and
shadowy there, so he called out.
"Any one here?"
"Yes," came from the corner, and there was a rustling of straw.
"I guess I know who," said Bart. "Come out of that, my good friend, and
show yourself," he continued heartily.
"What for?" propounded a gloomy, wavering voice.
"What for? that's good!" cried Bart. "Oh, I know who you are, if I don't
know your name."
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