The young express agent had spent a busy day, and the evening promised to continue to furnish plenty for him to do.

He had the infinite pleasure of seeing his mother’s face brighten up magically, when he related sufficient to her of the day’s experience to satisfy her that the revenue from the express business was secure.

She had received some intimation of this from her husband’s lips an hour previous at the hospital, and said that Mr. Stirling was feeling relieved and hopeful over the visit of the express superintendent, and the prospects of Bart succeeding to his position.

Bart very much wished to visit his father at once, but Mrs. Stirling said he had quieted for the night, was in no pain or mental distress, and it might not be wise to disturb him.

Bart told his mother something about the roustabout and their friendly relations, and the bottle of hot coffee, home-made biscuit sandwiches, and half a pie were put up for Bart’s pensioner with willing and grateful care.

Bart also took a shade lantern with him, and lighted it when he came to the express office.  He found the padlock loose.

He glanced over to the far dim end of the place.  Baker had built a regular cross-corner barricade of packing boxes, man-high.

Bart set the lantern on the bench and approached the roustabout’s hide-out.

“Are you there, Mr. Baker?” he inquired.

“Yes, I did just as you told me to do,” came the reply, but the speaker did not show himself.

“Well, here’s a blanket.  Can you make up a comfortable bed?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve got a broad board on a slant, and plenty of room.”

Bart lifted over the lunch basket.

“There you are!” he said briskly—­“now enjoy yourself, and don’t take a single care about anything.  Have you made out that list of things you want?”

“Yes, here it is,” and Baker handed over a piece of paper inclosing the ten-dollar bill.

“I’ll attend to this promptly,” said Bart.  “Supposing I look it over right here?  There may be some things you have noted down I want to ask you about.”

“Maybe you’d better,” assented Baker.

Bart sat down near the lantern.  The bit of paper was covered with crude handwriting, the same as that which had announced to him that afternoon that the contents of the safe in the old express shed ruins were safe.

The list was not a very long one, but it was not easy to fill.

Baker gave the measurements of a very cheap cotton suit and the size of a cap with a very deep peak.  He also notated a green eye-shade, a pair of goggles, and the ingredients for making a dark brown face stain.

In addition to this he wanted a dark gray hair switch, and it was easy to discern that his main idea was to prepare an elaborate disguise.

“All right,” reported Bart, as he finished reading the list.  “I’ll have the things here just as early in the morning as I can get them.  I’m going to put out the lantern, but I will then hand it over to you with some matches.  It has got a shade, and you can focus the rays so they will not show outside.  Here are a couple of magazines—­I brought them from the house.”