in a long aspiration of relief and enjoyment,
"that's better. Say, ten minutes more and there would have been no
Professor Rigoletto."

As he spoke he went back to the trunk. He took out a long gossamer rain
coat that had been used as a pillow. This he proceeded to put on.

It came to his feet. He buttoned it up, drew a jaunty crush cap from one
of its pockets, and grinned pleasantly into the face of the petrified
Peter Pope.

"See here!" blurted out the Cardysville express agent, "this
isn't--isn't regular. It isn't schedule, you know."

"I hope not--sincerely," airily retorted the stranger. "Fifty miles on a
slow train, three hours waiting in a close trunk. Ah, no. But I've
arrived. Ha, ha, that's so!"

He glanced into the trunk. Its bottom seemed covered with some coarse
burlap. Professor Rigoletto threw shut the cover.

"Aha!" he said suddenly, bending his ear as a strain of distant circus
music floated on the air. "Show on, I'll be late. I'll call later--"

"No, you don't!" interrupted Pope, recovering from his fright, and
placing his bulky form in the doorway.

"Don't what, my friend?" mildly asked the Professor.

"Deadhead--beat the express company. You're one trunk--and excess
weight."

"I don't dispute it. What, then?"

"Pay," promptly and definitely announced the agent.

"Can't. Haven't a cent. That's why I had to get a friend to ship me this
way. But he said he'd wire ahead to my partner with the circus, who
would call for me here. I'll go and find him, and settle the bill."

"You don't leave here until those charges are paid. You want to be
rapid, too," declared Pope, "or I'll see if the railroad company don't
want to collect fare, as well."

"Want to keep me here, eh?" murmured the Professor thoughtfully. "Well,
I'm agreeable, only you'll have to feed and bed me. If I'm live stock, I
demand live-stock privileges, see?"

The express agent looked worried.

"What am I to do?" he asked, in a quandary, of Bart.

"Oh," smiled Bart, "I guess you had better trust him to find his friend
and come back with the money."

"I'll hold the trunk, anyway," observed Pope. "What have you got in it?
Some old worthless togs, I suppose."

"Mistake--about a thousand dollars in value," coolly retorted the
Professor.

"Yes, you have! I thought so. Some old burlap."

"Careful, my friend!" spoke the deadhead sharply. "There's nothing there
that you will care to see."

"Isn't there? I'll investigate, just