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Updated: May 9, 2025
Whatever price the rich Colonel Harrington was paying Lem Wacker for his coöperation, it was not enough to blind that individual to a realization of the fact that accident had placed in Wacker's grasp the great haul of his life, and he was making off with this fortune, leaving the colonel in the lurch. The latter stood shaking like an aspen, his face the color of chalk.
"It is Wacker, sure," he breathed, "for that is the same sound made by the little alarm clock he bought at the sale this afternoon." The last vibrating tintinnabulations of the clock died away as Bart discovered his enemy. Lem Wacker's burly figure and white face were discernible against the direct flare of an arc light. He seemed a part of the bumpers of two cars.
Lem Wacker's evil face leered down upon him. "Don't you holler!" ordered Lem. As he spoke, he leaned over the railing. The waste box held a mass of cotton that had packed some of the parcels disposed of at the sale that afternoon. Lem grabbed up a handful, and forcibly stuffed it into Bart's mouth. "Wacker! Wacker!" gasped Colonel Harrington in affright, "don't don't hurt him. This is dreadful "
Then he said that she was a wind, a strong terrible wind, coming out of the darkness of a stormy sea and that he was a boat left on the shore of the sea by a fisherman. That idea pleased the boy and he sauntered along playing with it. He went into Main Street and sat on the curbing before Wacker's tobacco store.
"I know you are, Mr. McCarthy," returned Bart, "but nobody blames you. I've got to get back that trunk, though! you are positive about Lem Wacker's wagon being newly painted?" "Oh, sure." "And red?" "Yes, a bright red. Wacker lives near us, as I said. I strolled down the alley day before yesterday. I saw his shed doors open, and Wacker putting on the paint.
"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 " Bart lost the remainder of Mr. Lem Wacker's proposition, for Mr. Leslie had started forward impatiently, with Lem persistently following in his wake.
"If you make the price right, of course," answered Bart. "We can afford to underbid them all," declared Darry; and so the matter was settled. "Oh, by the way," said Darry, as he was about to leave "Lem Wacker's out of a job again." "You don't surprise me," remarked Bart, "but how is that?" "Why, Martin & Company are buying green peppers at seventy cents a bushel.
Seth arose from his place on the grass and went silently past the men perched upon the railing and into Main Street. He had come to a resolution. "I'll get out of here," he told himself. "What good am I here? I'm going to some city and go to work. I'll tell mother about it tomorrow." Seth Richmond went slowly along Main Street, past Wacker's Cigar Store and the Town Hall, and into Buckeye Street.
Darry Haven dropped the cover of the cash box, and also stared at Wacker. There was something suggestive in the sensation of the moment. Lem Wacker's face was as bold as brass.
The young express agent did not have to search for the stolen money package. It protruded from Wacker's side pocket. As he glanced it over, he saw that it was practically intact. Wacker had torn open only one corner, sufficient to observe its contents. Bart placed the envelope in his own pocket. "I'm fainting!" declared Wacker. Bart crossed under the bumpers to the other side of the freights.
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