ware store was open for the sale of powder, and Bart
stopped there on his way back to the express office and purchased a
padlock, two keys fitting it, and some stout staples and a hasp. He
carried these articles into the office when he reached it.

The thoughts of his father's plight, a haunting dread that Colonel
Harrington might make him some trouble, and the uncertainty of continued
work in the express service, all combined to depress his mind with
anxiety and suspense, and he tried to dismiss the themes by whistling a
quiet, soothing tune as he started to get the hammer to put the padlock
in place.

The minute he opened the door, however, the whistle was instantly
checked, and a quick glance at the impromptu desk told Bart that the
place had welcomed a visitor since he had left it.

On a sheet of blank paper was scrawled the words: "Express safe was
locked last night--contents all right."

And beside it was a heap of account books--the entire records of the
office, which Bart had supposed were destroyed in the fire at the old
express shed the evening previous.

CHAPTER VIII

THE YOUNG EXPRESS AGENT

Our hero regarded the little pile of account books as if they
represented some long-lost, newly-found treasure.

He was very much astonished at their presence there. They were a
tangible reality, however, and no delusion of the senses, and his ready
mind took in the fact that someone had in an unaccountable manner
rescued them from the burning express shed, and mysteriously restored
them to the proper representative of the express company in the nature
of a vast surprise.

The edges of one of the books was scorched, which was the only evidence
that they had been in the flames.

They were all there, and Bart was very glad. He now had in his
possession every record of the transactions of the Pleasantville express
office since the last New Year's day.

"And the contents of the safe are all right, too, that writing says!"
exclaimed Bart; "now what does all this mean?"

The handwriting of the announcement was crude and labored, and the boy
felt sure he had never seen it before.

He glanced with some excitement at the ruins of the old express shed,
then he went over there. The embers had died down entirely, and the mass
of ashes and debris was sparkless and cold.

Bart went to a near railroad scrap heap and selected a long iron rod
crowbar crooked at the end. He returned to the ruins and began poking