Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 1, 2025
"We asked one-legged Dacy on the quiet. He was in the war, and he says the gun can't burst, or anything." The crowd kept pushing Bart forward in eager excitement. "Why don't you light it yourself?" inquired Bart of Dale. "I've sprained my foot limping now," explained young Wacker. "She may kick, you see, and soon as you light her you want to scoot."
The man for whom "Lem" was good enough, was in his opinion pretty nearly good for nothing. Bart made the last entry in the register with a satisfied smile and strolled to the door stretching himself. "Everything in apple-pie order so far as the books go," he observed. "I expect it will be big hustle and bustle for an hour or two in the morning, though." Lem Wacker came slouching along.
"We'll be there to meet you," announced Buck Tolliver. "I don't see," growled Hank in an undertone to his brother, "why we would take any risk riding under that grass." "You leave this affair to me," retorted Buck. "If the kid gets through all right, then we're all right, aren't we?" "I suppose so." "And we've got to wait as we agreed for Wacker." Bart had just turned into the main road.
Perhaps the thought of the money had impelled him not to repeat it, but the little alarm clock which he carried in his pocket had betrayed him. Bart took in the situation at a glance. He was shocked and unnerved, but he stepped close to the writhing culprit. "Lem Wacker," he said, "where is that money envelope?" "In my pocket," groaned Wacker. "I've got it this time crippled for life!"
"Sorry to disturb the profundity of your calculations, Mr. Wacker," said Bart quietly, "but in the present instance there could not possibly be any mistake. Our scales were burned up in the fire. The new ones have not yet arrived, and in the meantime, as a temporary accommodation, our weighing is done up at the in-freight platform by the official weigh master of the road.
He had retained his place on a bench, looking bored, but for some reason sitting out the session, and Bart wondered why. Baker took a mild interest in what was going on, smiling appreciatively once in a while when Bart made a witty hit or an unusually good sale. Finally, however, Wacker put up his forefinger as Bart was bidding off a thin wooden box about four inches square.
Don't you dare!" raved Wacker, swinging his arms about like a windmill. "I demand that this sale be suspended until I can get further funds." "Twenty dollars gone!" sung out Bart in the same business tone, "and sold to cash." With a sigh of relief and weakness Baker swayed sideways to a bench, first extending to Darry Haven with a shaking hand a little roll of bills.
"They are going to wait for Wacker!" murmured Bart, as he urged on the horse. "That means that they expect him soon, for they calculate on being at the old mill as soon as I can make it by road. When he does come, and they tell him about me, he's sure to guess the truth. Then it's three to one get up!" Bart did not allow the horse to lag, but his best pace was a poor shambling trot.
About daybreak he woke up with a sudden jump, for he had dreamed that Colonel Harrington had thrown him into a deep pit, and that Lem Wacker was dropping Mrs. Harrington's precious trunk on top of him. The young express agent was conscious that he shouted outright in his nightmare, for the trunk he was dreaming about as it struck him seemed to explode into a thousand pieces.
Wacker," pursued Bart quietly, "you have to-night committed a crime that means State's prison for ten years if I make the complaint." "I'll have a partner in it, all the same!" remarked Wacker grimly. The colonel groaned. "You were after a package that belongs to a friend of mine," continued Bart. "I want to know why, and I want to know what you have done with that person."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking