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Updated: May 2, 2025
He found Cardysville to be a place of about 2,000 inhabitants. Most of the town, however, lay half-a-mile away from the B. & M. Railroad, another line cutting in farther north. Bart noticed crowds of people and a circus tent in the distance. The express shed was a gloomy little den of a place on a spur track. Near the depot was a small lunch counter.
The professor courteously thanked him and asked him to come and see the show free, and marched off quite contented with the result of his daring deadhead experiment. The Cardysville express agent was greatly worked up over the incident of the hour. It was some time before he could get his mind sufficiently calmed down to discuss business affairs coherently.
This was an enormous cobra, and, under the circumstances, very frightful to see. The Cardysville express agent made a headlong bolt for the door. He slid clear outside across the platform, and landed in the mud of the road. "Prt! prt! Caesar, so so!" spoke Professor Rigoletto in a peculiar, purring tone, approaching the serpent.
Reading between the lines, I assume that a certain Peter Pope, now express agent at Cardysville, and evidently recently appointed, is a relative of one of the officials of the company. Anyway, he has been running or not running things for a week. The inspector writes that the man has very little to do, for it is a small station, but that very little he appears to do very badly." "How, Bart?"
He blessed his lucky stars that he had such a bright and dependable substitute at hand as Darry Haven. The latter soon made his school and home arrangements, and Bart left affairs in his hands about ten o'clock, catching the train west after getting a pass for the Cardysville round trip. It was two o'clock when the train arrived at Bart's destination.
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.
Glancing at it casually, Darry saw that it was from express headquarters. "Anything wrong?" he inquired, as Bart folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket. "Not with me, anyway," replied Bart with a smile. "There is something wrong at Cardysville, a hundred miles or so down the main line," he went on. "And how does that interest you, Bart?"
They were given good seats, and they had the pleasure of seeing Professor Rigoletto and his big snake under more agreeable conditions than those of their first introduction to them. The show was a very good one, and at half-past ten they left the tent. The Cardysville express agent accompanied Bart to the depot, where the east bound train was due to arrive in thirty minutes.
He acted scared, for, bending his ear to listen, he retreated precipitately. Then he stood stock-still, staring stupidly at the building. He gave a nervous start as Bart came up behind him quite a jump, in fact. Bart, studying his flabby, uneasy face, wondered what was the matter with the man. "Hello!" jerked out the Cardysville express agent. "Sort of startled me." "Are you Mr.
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