"Why, Bart," exclaimed Darry, "they have promoted you!"

"I don't see it, Darry."

"That's traveling auditor's work. Besides, a delicate and confidential mission for an official. Wake up! you've struck a higher rung on the ladder, and I'll wager they'll boost you fast."

"Nonsense, Darry, I happen to be handy and accommodating, and they don't want to turn the fellow down on account of his 'pull.' Maybe they think the offer and suggestions of a boy will have a result where a regular official visit would offend Mr. Peter Pope's backer--see?"

All the same, Bart felt very much pleased over this unexpected communication. He blessed his lucky stars that he had such a bright and dependable subst.i.tute at hand as Darry Haven.

The latter soon made his school and home arrangements, and Bart left affairs in his hands about ten o'clock, catching the train west after getting a pa.s.s for the Cardysville round trip.

It was two o'clock when the train arrived at Bart's destination. He found Cardysville to be a place of about 2,000 inhabitants. Most of the town, however, lay half-a-mile away from the B. & M. Railroad, another line cutting in farther north.

Bart noticed crowds of people and a circus tent in the distance. The express shed was a gloomy little den of a place on a spur track. Near the depot was a small lunch counter. Bart got something to eat, and strolled down the tracks.

As he drew near to the express shed, Bart noticed an old armchair out on its platform.

A very stout man in his shirt sleeves sat in this, smoking a pipe.

He got up and waddled around restlessly. Bart noticed that he approached the door of the express office on tiptoe. He acted scared, for, bending his ear to listen, he retreated precipitately. Then he stood stock-still, staring stupidly at the building.

He gave a nervous start as Bart came up behind him--quite a jump, in fact. Bart, studying his flabby, uneasy face, wondered what was the matter with the man.

"h.e.l.lo!" jerked out the Cardysville express agent. "Sort of startled me."

"Are you Mr. Pope?" inquired Bart.

"Yes, that's me," a.s.sented the other. "Stranger here? looking for me?"

"I am," answered Bart. "My name is Stirling. I work at the express office at Pleasantville."

"Oh, yes, I've heard of you," said Peter Pope. "The express inspector wrote me about you. He said you was a young kid, sort of green in the business, who might drop in on me to get some points on the business."

"Quite so," nodded Bart with a side smile, "catching on," as the phrase goes, and at once falling in with the way the inspector was working matters. "We can't learn too much about the express business, you know, and I thought that by comparing notes with you we might dig out something of mutual benefit."

"You bet!" responded Pope, perking up quite grandly. "The Vice-President of the express company is my cousin. I've got a big pull. Soon as I get the ropes learned, I'm going for a manager's job in the city."

"That will be quite fine," said Bart. "I brought some books and blanks with me, and, if you can spare the time, I would like to have you see how our system strikes you."

"Sure. Come in--no, that is, I'll bring out a chair. I keep only one record. I've got this business simplified down to a lead pencil and a scratch book, see?"

Bart did "see," and knew that the express inspector had "seen," also. He wondered why Pope did not take him into the office. He marveled still more as, watching Pope, he noticed he hesitated at the door of the express shed. Then Pope moved forward as if actually unwilling to enter the place.

Half a minute after he had disappeared within the shed, Pope came rushing out, pale and fl.u.s.tered. He tumbled over the chair he was bringing to Bart, and a book he carried went flying from under his arm into the dirt of the road beyond the platform.

"Why," exclaimed Bart, in some surprise, "what is the matter, Mr. Pope?"

"Matter!" gasped Pope, his eyes rolling, as he backed away from the doorway, "say, that place is haunted!"

"What place?"

"The express room. I've been worried for an hour. It's nigh tuckered me out."

"What has?" inquired Bart

"Groans, hisses, rustlings. I thought a while back that someone was hiding in among the express stuff, and trying to scare me. 'Taint so, though. I went among it, and there's no place for anybody to hide."

"Oh, pshaw!" said Bart rea.s.suringly, "you are only nervous, Mr. Pope.

It's some live freight, likely. Can I take a look?"

"Sure--wish you would. I've been posting up on express business, you see, maybe that's the matter. Read about fellows hiding in boxes, and jumping out and murdering the messenger. Read about enemies sending a man exploding bombs, and blowing him to pieces."

"Nonsense, Mr. Pope!" said Bart, "you don't look as if you had an enemy in the world."

"I haven't," declared Peter Pope, "but every business man has his rivals, of course. I've heard that those city chaps have an eye on any fellow that makes a record like I'm making here. They don't want to see him get ahead. They must guess that I'm in line for a big promotion, and that might worry them into playing some tragical trick on me."

Bart wanted to laugh outright. He kept a straight face, and solemnly started to investigate the trouble. He stepped into the express room and took a keen look around, Pope timorously following him.

"There!" panted Pope suddenly, "what did I tell you?"

"That's so," said Bart. "It is sort of mysterious. Someone groaned, sure. What have you here, anyway?"

Bart went over to a heap of express matter, come in just that morning.

There were several small crates, a box or two, and a very large trunk.

Bart centered his attention on this latter. He stooped down as his quick eye observed a row of holes at one end, just under the hauling strap.

"Quiet, for a minute," he whispered warningly to Pope, who, big-eyed and trembling, resembled a man on the threshold of some most appalling discovery.

Bart's strained hearing shortly caught a rustling sound. It was followed by a kind of choking moan. Unmistakably, he decided, both came from the trunk.

"Is it locked? No," he said, examining the front of the trunk. Then Bart snapped back its two catches. He seized the cover and threw it back.

"Gracious!" gasped Peter Pope.

Bart himself was a trifle startled.

As the trunk cover lifted, a man stepped out.

CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE MIDNIGHT EXPRESS

"Air--and water!" panted the mysterious occupant of the trunk.