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Updated: May 1, 2025
He swept the scene with a searching glance, finally detected the shifting glow of a night watchman's lantern, and ran over to its source. He knew the watchman, and asked the man to accompany him, explaining as they went along that Lem Wacker had got caught between two freights, was held a prisoner in the bumpers with his foot crushed, and pointed the sufferer out as they neared the freights.
As he spoke Bart pointed through the open window across the tracks to the switch shanty at the side of the street crossing. A train was coming. Mr. Lemuel Wacker was "subbing" as extra for the superannuated old cripple whose sole duty was to wave a flag as trains went by. To this duty Wacker sprang with alacrity.
"I'm hired to stop the leaks," he mumbled, "and if this office is responsible for any of them I'm the man to find it out." "Well, in the present instance your claim is sheer folly. I see you note here one hundred and fifty pounds shortage. What is your basis?" "I weighed them myself." Bart consulted his books. Then he turned again to Wacker.
I wonder why Lem Wacker bid it up? Is he aware of the mystery surrounding Baker? Has this package got something to do with it? Wacker looked as though he had struck a prosperous streak, and bragged recklessly about the lot of money he could get. I must find Baker. He was in no condition, mentally or physically, to wander about at random." The package in question, Bart decided, held papers.
"Give me that package!" cried the colonel. "Stop! where are you going?" Lem Wacker had bolted. The colonel stared in marveling astonishment as his cohort sprang through the open doorway. Bart had managed to wad the cotton in his mouth into a compact wet mass, enabling him to speak. "Colonel Harrington!" he cried, "that man has not got the package you were after.
If it was Lem Wacker and Bart believed that it was just one thing was in order: to get that trunk to some town, to some station, to some friendly farmhouse, in hiding anywhere, before the pursuit, sure to follow, was started. Bart ran on, with a last glance at the lone distant figure. He could not afford to wait to see if the Tollivers joined it. Every minute was precious.
"I'll camp right in your service as soon as the seven o'clock whistle blows, and you get on the trail of that missing trunk." "I intend to," said Bart. "I will get Darry Haven to come down here. He knows the office routine. In the meantime, we had better not say much about the burglary." "Are you going on a hunt for Lem Wacker?" "I am." Bart went first to the Haven home.
Don't raise a row, Stirling," he pleaded piteously, "don't have him arrested, I'll foot the bill, I'll square everything. This matter must be hushed yes, yes, hushed up!" hoarsely groaned the military man. "Oh, its dreadful, dreadful!" Bart felt that he had matters in strong control, spoke a word to McCarthy and, when the ambulance came, allowed them to take Lem Wacker to the hospital.
Bart looked up a trifle startled at the sharp hail, ten minutes later. He had been engrossed in his work and had not noticed an intruder. Lem Wacker stood just in the doorway. He looked flushed, excited and vicious. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wacker?" inquired Bart calmly, though scenting trouble in the air.
"We didn't, and no questions asked." "I am afraid your ideas will not make much impression on my father, if that is what you are getting at," observed Bart, turning unceremoniously from Wacker. "Humph! you fellows ought to run a backwoods post office," disgustedly grunted the latter, as he made off. Bart had only to wait ten minutes when his father appeared.
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