ntment, for he was met by the freight agent of the B. & M., who
knew 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 tried
to get back to business, but he found himself considerably flustered.

All the morning his hopes and plans had drifted in one definite
direction--to get some assurance of permanent employment for the future.

The only work he had ever done was here at the express office for his
father. It was a daring prospect to imagine that he, a mere boy, would
be allowed to succeed to a grown man's position and salary--and yet Bart
had placed himself in line for it with every prompting of diligence and
duty.

Mr. Leslie and the freight agent spent half an hour at the ruins. Bart
could see by their gestures that they were animatedly discussing the
situation, and they seemed to be closely looking over the ground with a
view to locating a site for a new express shed.

Finally they shook hands in parting. The express superintendent
consulted his watch, and turned his face in the direction of Bart.

As he neared the "new" express shed, however, he passed around to its
rear, and glancing out of a window there Bart saw that he had come to a
halt, and was drawing a diagram of the tracks on a blank page in his
memorandum book.

Just as Mr. Leslie had returned this to his pocket and was about to
start from the spot, a man hailed him. It was Lem Wacker. He was dressed
in his best, but the effort was spoiled by an uncertainty of gait, and
his 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 demeanor
of the speaker.

"Sure," he answered, unabashed. "You're Leslie, ain't you?"

"I am Mr. Leslie, yes," corrected the superintendent, his stern brow
contracted in a frown.

"They told me I'd find you here. My name's Wacker. Knew your cousin down
at Rochelle; we worked on the same desk in the freight house. Had many
a 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 old
railroader and a handy man of experience, I am, and I wanted to make a
proposition to you. You see-