I. The third of July
II. “Waking the natives”
III. Counting the cost
IV. Blind for life
V. Ready for business
VI. Getting “Satisfaction”
VII. Waiting for trouble
VIII. The young express agent
IX. Colonel Jeptha Harrington
X. Queer comrades
XI. “Forget it!”
XII. The mysterious Mr. Baker
XIII. “Higher still!”
XIV. Mrs. Harrington’s trunk
XV. An early “Call”
XVI. At fault
XVII. A faint clew
XVIII. A dumb friend
XIX. Fooling the enemy
XX. Bart on the road
XXI. A limb of the law
XXII. Bart Stirling, auctioneer
XXIII. “Going, going, gone!”
XXIV. Mr. Baker’s bid
XXV. A night message
XXVI. On the midnight express
XXVII. Late visitors
XXVIII. Thirty seconds of twelve
XXIX. Brought to time
XXX. “Still higher!”
* * * * *
BART STIRLING’S ROAD TO SUCCESS
THE THIRD OF JULY
“You can’t go in that room.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because that’s the orders; and you can’t smoke in this room.”
Bart Stirling spoke in a definite, manly fashion.
Lemuel Wacker dropped his hand from the door knob on which it rested, and put his pipe in his pocket, but his shoulders hunched up and his unpleasant face began to scowl.
“Ho!” he snorted derisively, “official of the company, eh? Running things, eh?”
“I am—for the time being,” retorted Bart, cheerfully.
“Well,” said Wacker, with an ugly sidelong look, “I don’t take insolence from anyone with the big head. I reckon ten year’s service with the B. & M. entitles a man to know his rights.”
“Very active service just now, Mr. Wacker?” insinuated Bart pleasantly.
Lem Wacker flushed and winced, for the pointed question struck home.
“I don’t want no mistering!” he growled. “Lem’s good enough for me. And I don’t take no call-down from any stuck-up kid, I want you to understand that.”
“You’d better get to the crossing if you’re making any pretense of real work,” suggested Bart just then.
As he spoke Bart pointed through the open window across the tracks to the switch shanty at the side of the street crossing.
A train was coming. Mr. Lemuel Wacker was “subbing” as extra for the superannuated old cripple whose sole duty was to wave a flag as trains went by. To this duty Wacker sprang with alacrity.
Bart dismissed the man from his mind, and, whistling a cheery tune, bent over the book in which he had been writing for the past twenty minutes.
This was the register of the local express office of the B. & M., and at present, as Bart had said, he was “running it.”