CHAPTER V
READY FOR BUSINESS
Bart Stirling stood ruefully regarding the ruins of the burned expressshed. It was the Fourth of July, and early as it was, the air wasresonant with the usual echoes of Independance Day.
Bart, however, was little in harmony with the jollity and excitement ofthe occasion. He had spent a sleepless night, tossing and rolling in beduntil daybreak, when his mother returned from the hospital.
Mr. Stirling was resting easily, she reported, in very little pain ordiscomfort, but his career of usefulness and work was over--the doctorsexpressed an opinion that he would never regain his eyesight.
Mrs. Stirling was pale and sorrowed. She had grown older in a singlenight, but the calm resignation in her gentle face assured Bart thatthey would be of one mind in taking up their new burdens of life in apractical, philosophical way.
"Poor father!" he murmured brokenly. Then he added: "Mother, I want youto go in and get some rest, and try not to take this too hard. I willattend to everything there is to do about the express office."
"I don't see what there can be to do," she responded in surprise."Everything is burned up, your father will never be able to resume hisposition. We are through with all that, I fancy."
"There is considerable to do," asserted Bart in a definite tone thatinstantly attracted his mother's attention because of its seriousness."Father is a bonded employee of the express service. Their businessdoesn't stop because of an accidental fire, and they have a system tolook after here that must not be neglected. I know the ropes prettywell, thanks to father, and I think it a matter of duty to act just ashe would were he able to be about, and further and protect the company'sinterests. Outside of that, mother," continued the boy, earnestly, "youdon't suppose I am going to sit down idly and let things drift athaphazard, with the family to take care of and everything to be done tomake it easy and comfortable for father."
A look of pride came into the mother's face. She completely recognizedthe fidelity and sense of her loyal son, allowed Bart to lead her intothe house, and tried to be calm and cheerful when he bade her good-bye,and, evading celebrating groups of his boy friends, made his way down tothe ruined express shed.
A heap of still smouldering cinders and ashes marked the site. Bartstood silently ruminating for some minutes. He tried to think things outclearly, to decide how far he was warranted in acting for his father.
"I don't exactly know what action the express people usually take in acase of this kind," he reflected, "nor how soon they get about it. I canonly wait for some official information. In the meantime, though,somebody has got to keep the ball rolling here. I seem to be the onlyone about, and I am going to put the system in some temporary order atleast. If I'm called down later for being too officious, they can't sayI didn't try to do my duty."
Bart set briskly at work to put into motion a plan his quick, sensiblemind had suggested.
About one hundred feet away was a rough unpainted shed-like structure.He remembered the time, several years back, when the express office hadbeen located there.
It was, however, forty feet from any tracks, and for convenience sake,when the railroad gave up the burned building which they had occupiedfor unclaimed freight storage, it had been turned over to the expresspeople.
Bart went down to the old quarters. The door had lost its padlock andstood half open. Inside was a heap of old boards, and empty boxes andbarrels thrown there from time to time to keep them from littering theyards.
A truck and the little delivery cart, being outside of the burned shed,Bart found intact. He ran them down to the building he had determined toutilize, temporarily at least, as express headquarters forPleasantville.
The yards were fairly deserted except for a sleepy night watchman hereand there. It was not yet seven o'clock, but when Bart reached thein-freight house he found it open and one or two clerks hurrying throughtheir work so as to get off for the day at ten.
There was a good deal of questioning, for they knew of the fire, andknew Bart as well, and liked him, and when he made his wants knownwilling hands ministered to his needs.
Bart carried back with him a hammer and some nails, a broom, a markingpot and brush, pens, ink and a couple of tabs of paper.
As he neared the switch shanty where Lem Wacker had been on duty the dayprevious, he noticed that it had been opened up since he had passed itlast. Some one was grumbling noisily inside. Bart was curious for morereasons than one.
He placed his load on the bench outside and stuck his head in throughthe open doorway.
"Oh, it's you, Mr. Evans," he hailed, as he recognized the regularflagman on duty for whom Wacker had been substituting for three dayspast. "Glad to see you back. Are you all well?"
"Eh? oh, young Stirling. Say, you've had a fire. I hear your father wasburned."
"He is quite seriously hurt," answered Bart gravely.
"Too bad. I have troubles of my own, though."
"What is the matter, Mr. Evans?"
"Next time I give that lazy, good-for-nothing Lem Wacker work he'llknow it, I'm thinking! Look there--and there!"
The irate old railroader kicked over the wooden cuspidor in disgust. Itwas loaded to the top with tobacco and cigarette ends. Then he cast outhalf a dozen empty bottles through the open window, and went on with hisgrumbling.
"What he's been up to is more than I can guess," he vociferated. "Lookat my table there, all burned with matches and covered with burnt cork.What's he been doing with burnt cork? Running a minstrel show?"
Bart gave a start. He thought instantly of the black streaked face hehad tried to survey at the express shed window the night previous.
"My flag's gone, too," muttered old Evans, turning over things in a vainsearch for it. "I'll have a word or two for Lem Wacker when it comes tosettling day, I'm thinking. He comes up to the house late last night andtells me he don't care to work for me any longer."
"Did he?" murmured Bart thoughtfully. "Why not, I wonder?"
"Oh, he flared up big and lofty, and said he had a better job in view."
Bart went on his way surmising a good deal and suspecting more.
He made it a point to pass by the ruins of the old express shed, and hefound there what he expected to find--the missing flag from the switchshanty; only the rod was bare, the little piece of red bunting havingbeen burned away.
Bart dismissed this matter from his mind and all other disturbingextraneous affairs, massing all his faculties for the time being ongetting properly equipped for business.
He selected a clean, plain board, and with the marking outfit paintedacross it in six-inch letters that could be plainly read at a distancethe words:
EXPRESS OFFICE.
This Bart nailed to the door jamb in such a way that it was visible fromthree directions.
Next he started to carry outside and pile neatly at the blind end of thebuilding all the boards, boxes and other debris littering up the room,swept it, and selected two packing cases and nailed them up into aconvenient impromptu desk, manufactured a bench seat out of some looseboards, set his pen, ink and paper in order, and felt quite ready forbusiness.
He had gained a pretty clear idea the day previous from his father as tothe Fourth of July express service routine.
The fireworks deliveries had been the main thing, but as these had beendestroyed that part of the programme was off the sheet.
At eight o'clock the morning express would bring in its usual quota, butthis would be held over until the following day except what was markedspecial or perishable. There would be no out express matter owing to thefact that it was a holiday.
"I can manage nicely, I think," Bart told himself, as, an hour later, heran the truck down to the site of the burned express shed and stood bythe tracks waiting.
A freight engine soon came to the spot, backing down the express car.Its engineer halted with a jerk and a vivid:
"Hello!"
He had not heard of the fire, and he stared with interest at
the ruinsas Bart explained that, until some new arrangement was made, expressshipments would be accepted and loaded by truck.
There were four big freezers of ice cream, one for delivery at the townconfectioner's, one at the drug store soda fountain, and two for thepicnic grounds, where an afternoon celebration was on the programme.Besides these, there were three packages containing flags and fireworks,marked "Delayed--Rush."
He closed the office door, tacked to it a card announcing he wouldreturn inside of half an hour, and loaded into the wagon the entiremorning's freight except the two freezers intended for the picnicgrounds.
These could not be delivered until two o'clock that afternoon, and hestowed them in the new express shed, covering them carefully with theircanvas wrappings.
Bart made a record run in his deliveries. He had formed a rough receiptbook out of some loose sheets, and when he came back to the officefilled out his entries in regular form.
Several persons visited the place up to nine o'clock--storekeepers andothers who had lost their goods in the fire. Bart explained thesituation, saying that they would probably hear from the express companyin a day or two regarding their claims.
He found in work something to change his thoughts from a gloomy channel,and, while very anxious about his father, was thankful his parent hadescaped with his life, while he indulged some hopeful and daring plansfor his own ambitions in the near future.
"I'll stick to my post," he decided. "Some of the express people mayhappen down here any time."
He was making up a list from memory of those in the village whosepackages had been destroyed by the fire, when two boys crossed thethreshold of the open doorway, one carrying a thin flat package.
Bart greeted them pleasantly. The elder was Darry Haven, his companion ayounger brother, Bob, both warm friends of the young express agent.
Darry inquired for Mr. Stirling solicitously, and said his mother wasthen on her way to see Mrs. Stirling, anxious to do anything she couldto share the lady's troubles. Mr. Haven had been an editor, but hishealth had failed, and Mrs. Haven, having some artistic ability andexperience, was the main present support of the family, doingconsiderable work for a publishing house in the city in the way ofillustrations for fashion pages.
Darry had a "rush" package of illustrations under his arm now.
"I suppose we can't get anything through to-day, or until you get thingsin running order again?" he intimated.
"We were sending nothing through on account of the Fourth," explainedBart, "but you leave the package here and I will see that it goes onthe eleven o'clock train."
Bart had just completed the fire-loss list when a heavy step caused himto turn around.
A portly, well-dressed man, important-appearing and evidently onbusiness, stood in the doorway looking sharply about the place.
"Well!" he uttered, "What's this?"
"The express office," said Bart, arising.
"Oh, it is?" slowly commented the man, "You in charge?"
"Yes, sir," politely answered Bart.
"Set up shop; doing business, eh?"
"Fast as I can," announced Bart.
"Who told you to?" demanded the visitor bending a pair of stern eyes onBart.
"Why do you ask that, may I inquire?" interrogated Bart, pleasantly, butstanding his ground.
"Ha-hum!" retorted the stranger, "why do ask. Because I am thesuperintendent of the express company, young man, and somewhatinterested in knowing, I fancy!"