Read Bart Stirling's Road to Success; Or, The Young Express Agent Page 10

  CHAPTER X

  QUEER COMRADES

  So many sensational occurrences had marked the last twenty-four hours ofBart Stirling's career, that it seemed as though the accumulating serieswould never end.

  It was a particularly ragged and miserable-looking arm, and why it couldso summarily check, halt and hold the great magnate of Pleasantville,was the problem that now tried Bart's reasoning faculties.

  Bart closed the door of the express office and stepped out to where hecould get a clearer view of the colonel and his environment.

  Suddenly the strain was removed. The colonel threw up his arms with agasp. He started to turn around, clutched at his neck in a stranglingkind of a way, tottered, reeled, and plunged forward on his face againsta heap of cinders.

  "This is serious," murmured Bart.

  He rapidly covered the two hundred foot space between the express shedand the freight car.

  "Colonel--Colonel Harrington!" he called in some alarm, kneeling by theprostrate body of his enemy.

  Bart tried to pull him over on his back. As he partially succeeded, henoticed that the colonel's face was pitted, and in one or two placesscratched and bleeding from contact with the cinder particles.

  The bulky form was quivering and convulsed. The colonel had been dazed,it seemed, but not rendered entirely unconscious, for now with a groanhe struggled to a sitting posture.

  Bart drew out his handkerchief and tried to clean the dirt from themilitary man's face.

  The colonel resisted, he swayed and mumbled. Then he groaned again ashis eyes lit on the freight car.

  "Get me away from here," he moaned--"get me away! What's happened tome?"

  "That is what I was going to ask you," said Bart. "Don't you know?"

  The colonel passed his hand over his face and mumbled, but made nocoherent reply.

  Bart glanced at the freight car. It afforded no evidence of presentoccupancy. He reflected for moment.

  "Wait for just two minutes," he directed.

  Running over to the drug store on the next street, he spoke a few wordsto the man in charge, and darted out again as the druggist hurried tohis telephone to call up the livery stable.

  When he got back to the colonel, Bart found the latter sitting proppedup against the cinder heap, his eyes open, and breathing heavily, butstill in a helpless kind of a daze.

  He worked over the colonel, and finally got the man on his feet. Hisposition was so unsteady, however, that he had to support him with onehand while he dusted off his clothes with the other.

  As he stood trying to keep his charge on his feet, a cab rushed acrossthe tracks. Its driver, bluff Bill Carey, nodded familiarly to Bart, andlooked the colonel over critically. He got the latter into the cab in anexperienced way.

  "Same old complaint!" he intimated to Bart with a wink. "Drinks prettyheavily."

  Bart leaned over into the cab.

  "Colonel Harrington," he said, "do you wish to be driven home?"

  The colonel gave him a fishy stare, groaned and put out a wavering hand.

  "Come," he mumbled.

  "Jump in," directed Carey. "You'll be useful explaining the 'fall' up atthe house!"

  As they went on their way, the young express agent experienced astriking sensation.

  A topsy-turvy day of excitement was ending with the peculiar combinationof his riding in the same carriage with his most bitter enemy, andacting the good Samaritan.

  They proceeded slowly, or rather cautiously, for the popping and banginghad recommenced all over town.

  Carey had to keep the spirited horses in strong check as they passedgroups of boys, reckless of the quantity of firecrackers theydeliberately fired off as the team neared them.

  Suddenly the horses were pulled to their haunches with a vociferousshout. The cab swerved and creaked, and the horses' hoofs beat analarming tattoo on the cobblestones.

  "Whoa! whoa!" yelled Bill Carey. "You young villains! get that infernalmachine out of the way. Can't you see--"

  Bart stuck his head out of the cab window to view an animated scene.

  A fourteen-inch cannon cracker was hissing and spitting out smoke barelytwo feet ahead of the terrified horses in the middle of the street.

  At that moment it exploded. The horses gave a wild snort, a frightenedjerk at the reins.

  Bart saw the staunch driver dragged from his seat. He lit on his feet,braced, but was pulled over, as, with a fierce tug, the horses snappedthe line in two.

  Then, unrestrained, the team shot down the street without guide orhindrance and with the speed of the wind.