CHAPTER VI
GETTING "SATISFACTION"
Bart did not lose his presence of mind, but he fully realized that hefaced a critical moment in his career.
Very courteously he drew forward the rude impromptu bench he had knockedtogether two hours before.
"Will you have a seat, sir?" he asked.
The express superintendent did not lose his dignity, but there was aslightly humorous twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Thanks," he said, wearily seating himself on the rude structure."Rather primitive furniture for a big express company, it seems to me."
"It was the best I could provide under the circumstances," explainedBart modestly.
"You made this bench, did you?"
Bart acknowledged the imputation with a nod.
"And that--desk, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"And the sign outside, and opened for business?"
"There was no one else on hand. I felt that I must represent my father,Mr. Stirling, who is the authorized agent here, until the seriousness ofhis condition was known. You see, there was business likely to come in,and I have been here to attend to it."
"Just so," vouchsafed his visitor. "No out shipments to-day, I believe?"
"No, it's a holiday, but there was some rush in stuff on the morningexpress."
"Where is it?"
"I have delivered most of it--the balance, two freezers of ice cream, Iwill attend to this afternoon. I am keeping a record and takingreceipts, but giving none--I didn't feel warranted in that until I heardfrom the company."
"You have done very well, young man," said the stranger. "I am RobertLeslie, the superintendent, as I told you. Do you mean to say you riggedthings up in this shape and got your deliveries out alone?"
"There was no one to help me," remarked Bart.
He felt pleased and encouraged, for the superintendent's cast-ironvisage had softened considerably, and he manifested unmistakableinterest as he reached out and took up and inspected the neatlyformulated memoranda on the packing-box desk.
"What's this?" he inquired, running over the pages Bart had last beenworking on.
"That is a list of losers by the fire," explained Bart.
"This is from memory?"
"Yes, Mr. Leslie--but I have a good one, and I think the list istolerably correct."
"I am very much pleased," admitted the superintendent--"those claims areour main anxiety in a case like this. I understand the contents of thesafe were destroyed."
"I fear so," assented Bart gravely. "The explosion was so sudden, and myfather was blinded, so there was no opportunity to close it. I tried toreach it after rescuing him, but the flames drove me back."
Mr. Leslie was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be thinking. Hisglance roamed speculatively about the place, taking in the layoutcritically, then finally Bart was conscious that his shrewd, burrowingeyes were scanning him closely.
"How old are you, Stirling?" asked the superintendent abruptly.
"Nearly nineteen."
"I suppose you know something about the routine here?"
"I have helped my father a little for the past month or two--yes, sir."
"And have improved your opportunities, judging from the common-sense wayyou have got things into temporary running order," commented Leslie.
The speaker took out his watch. Then, glancing through the doorway, hearose suddenly, with the words:
"Ah! there he is, now. I suppose you couldn't be here about four o'clockthis afternoon?"
"Why, certainly," answered Bart promptly. "People are likely to bearound making inquiries, and I have a delivery to make this afternoon,as I told you, sir."
"I intend to see your father," said Mr. Leslie, "and I want to get backto the city to-night. I may have some orders for you, so we'll call itfour, sharp."
"I will be here, sir."
The superintendent stepped outside. Evidently he had made anappointment, for he was met by the freight agent of the B. & M., whoknew Bart and nodded to him.
As the two men strolled slowly over to the ruins of the express shed,Bart heard Mr. Leslie remark:
"That's a smart boy in there."
"And a good one," supplemented the freight agent.
Bart experienced a thrill of pleasure at the homely compliment. He triedto get back to business, but he found himself considerably flustered.
All the morning his hopes and plans had drifted in one definitedirection--to get some assurance of permanent employment for the future.
The only work he had ever done was here at the express office for hisfather. It was a daring prospect to imagine that he, a mere boy, wouldbe allowed to succeed to a grown man's position and salary--and yet Barthad placed himself in line for it with every prompting of diligence andduty.
Mr. Leslie and the freight agent spent half an hour at the ruins. Bartcould see by their gestures that they were animatedly discussing thesituation, and they seemed to be closely looking over the ground with aview to locating a site for a new express shed.
Finally they shook hands in parting. The express superintendentconsulted his watch, and turned his face in the direction of Bart.
As he neared the "new" express shed, however, he passed around to itsrear, and glancing out of a window there Bart saw that he had come to ahalt, and was drawing a diagram of the tracks on a blank page in hismemorandum book.
Just as Mr. Leslie had returned this to his pocket and was about tostart from the spot, a man hailed him. It was Lem Wacker. He was dressedin his best, but the effort was spoiled by an uncertainty of gait, andhis face was suspiciously flushed.
"Did you address me?" inquired the superintendent in a chilling tone.
Lem was not daunted by the imposing presence or the dignified demeanorof the speaker.
"Sure," he answered, unabashed. "You're Leslie, ain't you?"
"I am Mr. Leslie, yes," corrected the superintendent, his stern browcontracted in a frown.
"They told me I'd find you here. My name's Wacker. Knew your cousin downat Rochelle; we worked on the same desk in the freight house. Had manya drink with Ted Leslie."
"What do you want?" challenged the superintendent, turning on his heel.
"Why, it's this way," explained the dauntless Lem: "I'm an oldrailroader and a handy man of experience, I am, and I wanted to make aproposition to you. You see--"
Bart lost the remainder of Mr. Lem Wacker's proposition, for Mr. Lesliehad started forward impatiently, with Lem persistently following in hiswake. He was still keeping up the pursuit and importuning the affrontedofficial as both were lost to view behind a track of freights.
Bart of course surmised that Lem Wacker was on the trail of the "betterjob" he had announced he was after to the old switchman, Evans.
"I don't think he has made a very promising impression," decided Bart,as he got back to his writing.
"Say, you!"
Bart looked up a trifle startled at the sharp hail, ten minutes later.He had been engrossed in his work and had not noticed an intruder.
Lem Wacker stood just in the doorway. He looked flushed, excited andvicious.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Wacker?" inquired Bart calmly, thoughscenting trouble in the air.
"You can undo!" flared out Wacker, "and you'll get quick action on it,or I'll clean you out, bag and baggage."
"There isn't much baggage here to clean out," suggested Bart humorously,"and as for the rest of it I'll try to take care of it myself."
"Oh! you will, will you?" sneered Lem, lurching to and fro. "You're asneak. Bart Stirling--a low, contemptible sneak, that's what you are!"
"I would like to have you explain," remarked Bart.
"You've queered me!" roared Wacker, "and I'm going to havesatisfaction--yes, sir. Sat-is-fac-tion!"
He pounded out the syllables under Bart's very nose with resoundingthumps, bringing down his fist on the impromptu office desk so forciblythat the concussion disturbed the papers on it, and several sheets f
ellfluttering to the floor.
Bart's patience was tried. His eyes flashed, but he stooped and pickedup the pages and replaced them on the dry goods box.
"Don't you do that again," he warned in a strained tone.
"Why!" yelled Wacker, rolling up his cuffs.
"I'll trim you next! 'Don't-do-it-again!' eh? Boo! bah!"
Lem raised his foot and kicked over the desk, papers and all.
"That's express company property," observed Bart quietly, but his bloodwas up, the limit reached. "Get out!"
One arm shot forward, and the clenched muscular fist rested directlyunder the chin of the astounded Lem Wacker.
"And stay out."
Lem Wacker felt a smart whack, went whirling back over the threshold,and the next instant measured his length, sprawling on the groundoutside of the express shed.
Bart Stirling's Road to Success; Or, The Young Express Agent Page 6
