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Page 36
"All right. Where?"
"Swing it up--I want to get it on top of the safe."
"What!" ejaculated Darry in profound amazement.
"Yes, we don't handle property in the thousands every day in the week."
"But the company is responsible only up to fifty dollars, when they
don't pay excess."
"That doesn't satisfy the shipper if there is any loss. I feel we ought
to be extra careful until we get a new office with proper safeguards,
and that expensive outfit staying here all night worries me. Up--hoist!"
Bart settled the trunk on top of the safe, and on top of that he set the
lantern.
When he locked up for the night he lit the lantern, and went over to the
freight platform where the night watchman had just come on duty.
Bart knew him well and liked him, and the feeling was reciprocal.
He explained that a valuable trunk had to remain overnight in the
express shed, and how he had placed it.
"Just take a casual glance over there on your rounds, will you, Mr.
McCarthy?" he continued.
"I certainly will. You set the lantern so it shows things inside, and
I'll keep an eye open," acquiesced the watchman.
Bart went home feeling satisfied and relieved at the arrangement he had
made.
All the same he did not sleep well that night. About daybreak he woke
up with a sudden jump, for he had dreamed that Colonel Harrington had
thrown him into a deep pit, and that Lem Wacker was dropping Mrs.
Harrington's precious trunk on top of him.
CHAPTER XV
AN EARLY "CALL"
The young express agent was conscious that he shouted outright in his
nightmare, for the trunk he was dreaming about as it struck him seemed
to explode into a thousand pieces.
The echoes of the explosion appeared to still ring in his ears, as he
sat up and pulled himself together. Then he discovered that it was a
real sound that had awakened him.
"Only five," he murmured, with a quick glance at the alarm clock on the
bureau--"and someone at the front door!"
Rat, tat, tat! it was a sharp, distinct summons.
"Why," continued Bart briskly, jumping out of bed and hurrying on some
clothes, "it's Jeff!"
Jeff was "the caller" for the roundhouse. He was a feature in the B. &
M. system, and for ten years had pursued his present occupation.
"Something's up," ruminated Bart a little excitedly, as he ran down the
stairs and opened the front door. "What is it, Jeff?"
"Wanted," announced the laconic caller.
"By whom?"
"McCarthy, down at the freight house."
"What's wrong?"
"He didn't tell---just asked me to get you there quick as your feet
could carry you."
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