Bart Stirling's Road to Success Part 14

"It might. It must!" declared Bart staunchly, "See here, I want to ask you a few questions and then I want to give you some advice, or rather tender my very friendly services. Do you know what you have done for me to-day?"

"No. If I have done anything to help you I am glad of it. You have been a friend to me--the only friend I've found."

"I'll be a better one--that is, if you will let me," pledged Bart warmly. "You warned me about the burglars last night; you helped me save my father's life."

"Anybody would do what I have done."

"No one did but yourself, just the same. Don't be cynical--you're something of a hero, if you only knew it. It was you who went into the burning express shed and saved the account books and closed the safe door."

"Who says so?" muttered Baker.

"I say so, and you know it--don't you?"

Baker made no response.

"Do you know what all this means for me and my family?" went on Bart.

"You have done for me something I can never pay you for, something I can never forget. You are true blue, Mr. Baker! That's the kind of a worthless good-for-nothing person you are, and I want to call you my friend! h.e.l.lo, now what is the matter?"

The matter was that the roustabout was crying softly like a baby. Bart was infinitely touched.

"I don't know your secrets," continued Bart earnestly, "and I certainly shall not pry into them without your permission, but I want to repay your kindness in some way. I can't rest till I do. All I can do is to guess out that you are in some trouble, maybe hiding. Well, let me share your troubles, let me hide you in a more comfortable way than lounging around cold freight cars with half enough to eat. You've done something grand in the last twenty-four hours--don't lose sight of that in mourning over your sins, if you have any, or in running away from some shadow that scares you. I'm not the only one who thinks you're a hero, either. There's someone else."

"Is there?" murmured the roustabout weakly.

"There is. It is Mr. Leslie, the express superintendent. I told him about you. He left this ten dollars for you, and the way he did it ought to make you proud."

Bart forced the bank note into Baker's hand. The man was shaking like a leaf from emotion. He stood like one spellbound, unable to take in all at once the good that was said of him and done him.

"Come," rallied Bart, giving him a ringing slap on the shoulder, "brace up and be what you have proved yourself to be--a man!"

Baker started electrically. His tones showed some force as he said:

"All right--you've made me feel good. But you don't know a whole lot, and I can't tell you. You say you're my friend."

"You believe that I am, do you not?"

"Yes, I do, and that's why I don't want to drag you into any complications. This ten dollars is mine, isn't it?"

"Certainly."

"Will you spend it for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to give me a pencil and some paper, and I will write out a list of some things I want. You take it and the ten dollars and bring me the things here to-morrow. I want you to promise in the meantime, though, that if you come upon me unawares, or when I'm asleep, or under any circ.u.mstances whatever, you will turn your head away and not look at my face."

Bart was very much puzzled.

"I think I see how it is," he said after a brief period of reflection, "you are afraid of being recognized?"

"Think that if you want to, maybe you're right," returned Baker.

"Anyway, I don't want to do anything or have you do anything that will mix you up in my troubles. My way is the safe way. Will you do what I ask?"

"Yes," answered Bart promptly. "Can't I get the things you want to-night?"

"I am afraid not, for most of the stores are closed."

"That's right. Well, then, let me make a suggestion: I have two keys to the new express office. I'll give you one. After dark, if you don't want to do it in daylight, go over and unlock the door. Pick out two or three dry-goods boxes from the heap behind the shed, carry them in and rig up any kind of private quarters you like at the far corner of the shed.

I'll see that n.o.body disturbs you. In a couple of hours I will bring you a blanket from the house and a nice warm lunch, and you can be comfortable and safe. I will relock the door on you, and if you want to leave at any time you can unfasten a window and get out."

Baker did not reply. Bart heard him mumbling to himself as though debating the proposition submitted to him.

"I don't want to make you a lot of trouble," he finally faltered out.

"Of course you don't, and won't," a.s.serted Bart--"you want to give me pleasure, though, don't you? So you do as I suggest, and I'll sleep a good deal sounder than if you didn't. Here's the key. I will be over to the express office about eight o'clock. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes," answered the strange man.

CHAPTER XIII

"HIGHER STILL!"

About eight o'clock that evening Bart came down to the express office carrying a lunch basket and a blanket, as he had promised his erratic friend, Mr. Baker.

The young express agent had spent a busy day, and the evening promised to continue to furnish plenty for him to do.

He had the infinite pleasure of seeing his mother's face brighten up magically, when he related sufficient to her of the day's experience to satisfy her that the revenue from the express business was secure.

She had received some intimation of this from her husband's lips an hour previous at the hospital, and said that Mr. Stirling was feeling relieved and hopeful over the visit of the express superintendent, and the prospects of Bart succeeding to his position.

Bart very much wished to visit his father at once, but Mrs. Stirling said he had quieted for the night, was in no pain or mental distress, and it might not be wise to disturb him.

Bart told his mother something about the roustabout and their friendly relations, and the bottle of hot coffee, home-made biscuit sandwiches, and half a pie were put up for Bart's pensioner with willing and grateful care.

Bart also took a shade lantern with him, and lighted it when he came to the express office. He found the padlock loose.

He glanced over to the far dim end of the place. Baker had built a regular cross-corner barricade of packing boxes, man-high.

Bart set the lantern on the bench and approached the roustabout's hide-out.

"Are you there, Mr. Baker?" he inquired.

"Yes, I did just as you told me to do," came the reply, but the speaker did not show himself.

"Well, here's a blanket. Can you make up a comfortable bed?"