“H’m!” chuckled Darry—­“any mention of your valued extra help?”

“No, but that may come along, for you have got to represent me here again to-day, and possibly to-morrow.”

“Is that so?” said Darry.  “Well, I guess I can arrange.”

“You see,” explained Bart, “the letter is a sort of confidential one.  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?”

“His reports and returns are all mixed up.  He doesn’t have the least idea of how to run things intelligently.  The inspector asks me to go and see him, take some of our blanks, open a set of books for him, and try and install a system that will bring things around clearer.”

“Why, Bart,” exclaimed Darry, “they have promoted you!”

“I don’t see it, Darry.”

“That’s traveling auditor’s work.  Besides, a delicate and confidential mission for an official.  Wake up! you’ve struck a higher rung on the ladder, and I’ll wager they’ll boost you fast.”

“Nonsense, Darry, I happen to be handy and accommodating, and they don’t want to turn the fellow down on account of his ‘pull.’  Maybe they think the offer and suggestions of a boy will have a result where a regular official visit would offend Mr. Peter Pope’s backer—­see?”

All the same, Bart felt very much pleased over this unexpected communication.  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 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.  Bart got something to eat, and strolled down the tracks.

As he drew near to the express shed, Bart noticed an old armchair out on its platform.

A very stout man in his shirt sleeves sat in this, smoking a pipe.

He got up and waddled around restlessly.  Bart noticed that he approached the door of the express office on tiptoe.  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.