Chapter 12

THE MYSTERIOUS MR. BAKER

The little express office looked good to Bart as its precincts again sheltered him.

Things appeared better and clearer to him now than at any time during the past twenty-four hours, and his heart warmed up as he put his papers and books in order, saw that the safe was secured, and decided to close up business for the day.

Doctor Griscom from the hospital had dropped in for a few moments, and brought some news that lifted something of a cloud from the heart of the young express agent.

"I do not want to hold out any false hopes," he told Bart, "but there is a bare possibility that your father may not become totally blind."

"That is blessed news!" cried Bart fervently.

"It is all a question of time, and after that of skill," continued the surgeon. "Your father must have absolute rest and cheerful, comfortable surroundings; above all, peace of mind. I shall watch his case, and when I see the first indication of the services of some skilled specialist being of benefit to him I will tell you. It will cost you some money, but I will do all I can to make the expert reasonable in his charges."

"Don't think of that," said Bart impetuously. "With such a hope in view I am willing to work my finger ends off!"

Bart was, therefore, in high spirits as he left the express office, padlocking the door securely.

He was anxious to get home and then to the hospital, to impart to his mother and father in turn the assurance that they had a bread-winner able to work and glad to do so for their benefit.

Amid the buoyancy of the relief from the continuous strain and troubles of the day, Bart was bent on a quick dash for home when he remembered something that changed his plan.

"The roustabout, the poor fellow that I've got the ten dollars for, the good fellow, if I don't mistake, who saved the books and the contents of the safe!" exclaimed Bart. "Actually, I had forgotten all about him for the moment."

Bart stood still thinking, looking around speculatively, his fingers mechanically touching the bank note in his pocket which Mr. Leslie had given him in trust.

He did not reflect long. He went at once to the freight car whence he had seen the ragged arm extended two hours previous, and looked in.

Back at one end were some broken grapevine crates, and it was dim and shadowy there, so he called out.

"Any one here?"

"Yes," came from the corner, and there was a rustling of straw.

"I guess I know who," said Bart. "Come out of that, my good friend, and show yourself," he continued heartily.

"What for?" propounded a gloomy, wavering voice.

"What for? that's good!" cried Bart. "Oh, I know who you are, if I don't know your name."

"Baker will do."

"All right, Mr. Baker, friend Baker, you're true blue and the best friend I ever had, and I want to shake hands with you, and slap you on the back, and--help you."

A timid, muffled figure shifted into full outline, but not into clear view, against the side of the car.

Bart took a step nearer. He promptly caught at one hand of the slouching figure. Then he regarded it in perplexity.

The roustabout held with his other hand a canvas bag on his head so that it concealed nearly his entire face.

"Why!" said Bart, reaching suddenly up and momentarily pulling the impromptu hood aside. "What's the matter now? Where is your beard and long head of hair?"

"Burned."

"False?"

"Yes."

"Then you were disguised?"

"I tried to be," was responded faintly.

Bart stood for a moment or two queerly regarding the roustabout.

"Mr. Baker," he said finally, "I am bound to respect any wish you may suggest, but I declare I can't understand you."

"Don't try to," advised the roustabout in a dreary way. "I'm not worth it."

"Oh, yes, you are."

"And it wouldn't do any good."

"It might. It must!" declared Bart staunchly, "See here, I want to ask you a few questions and then I want to give you some advice, or rather tender my very friendly services. Do you know what you have done for me to-day?"

"No. If I have done anything to help you I am glad of it. You have been a friend to me--the only friend I've found."

"I'll be a better one--that is, if you will let me," pledged Bart warmly. "You warned me about the burglars last night; you helped me save my father's life."

"Anybody would do what I have done."

"No one did but yourself, just the same. Don't be cynical--you're something of a hero, if you only knew it. It was you who went into the burning express shed and saved the account books and closed the safe door."

"Who says so?" muttered Baker.

"I say so, and you know it--don't you?"

Baker made no response.

"Do you know what all this means for me and my family?" went on Bart. "You have done for me something I can never pay you for, something I can never forget. You are true blue, Mr. Baker! That's the kind of a worthless good-for-nothing person you are, and I want to call you my friend! Hello, now what is the matter?"

The matter was that the roustabout was crying softly like a baby. Bart was infinitely touched.

"I don't know your secrets," continued Bart earnestly, "and I certainly shall not pry into them without your permission, but I want to repay your kindness in some way. I can't rest till I do. All I can do is to guess out that you are in some trouble, maybe hiding. Well, let me share your troubles, let me hide you in a more comfortable way than lounging around cold freight cars with half enough to eat. You've done something grand in the last twenty-four hours--don't lose sight of that in mourning over your sins, if you have any, or in running away from some shadow that scares you. I'm not the only one who thinks you're a hero, either. There's someone else."

"Is there?" murmured the roustabout weakly.

"There is. It is Mr. Leslie, the express superintendent. I told him about you. He left this ten dollars for you, and the way he did it ought to make you proud."

Bart forced the bank note into Baker's hand. The man was shaking like a leaf from emotion. He stood like one spellbound, unable to take in all at once the good that was said of him and done him.

"Come," rallied Bart, giving him a ringing slap on the shoulder, "brace up and be what you have proved yourself to be--a man!"

Baker started electrically. His tones showed some force as he said:

"All right--you've made me feel good. But you don't know a whole lot, and I can't tell you. You say you're my friend."

"You believe that I am, do you not?"

"Yes, I do, and that's why I don't want to drag you into any complications. This ten dollars is mine, isn't it?"

"Certainly."

"Will you spend it for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to give me a pencil and some paper, and I will write out a list of some things I want. You take it and the ten dollars and bring me the things here to-morrow. I want you to promise in the meantime, though, that if you come upon me unawares, or when I'm asleep, or under any circumstances whatever, you will turn your head away and not look at my face."

Bart was very much puzzled.

"I think I see how it is," he said after a brief period of reflection, "you are afraid of being recognized?"

"Think that if you want to, maybe you're right," returned Baker. "Anyway, I don't want to do anything or have you do anything that will mix you up in my troubles. My way is the safe way. Will you do what I ask?"

"Yes," answered Bart promptly. "Can't I get the things you want to-night?"

"I am afraid not, for most of the stores are closed."

"That's right. Well, then, let me make a suggestion: I have two keys to the new express office. I'll give you one. After dark, if you don't want to do it in daylight, go over and unlock the door. Pick out two or three dry-goods boxes from the heap behind the shed, carry them in and rig up any kind of private quarters you like at the far corner of the shed. I'll see that nobody disturbs you. In a couple of hours I will bring you a blanket from the house and a nice warm lunch, and you can be comfortable and safe. I will relock the door on you, and if you want to leave at any time you can unfasten a window and get out."

Baker did not reply. Bart heard him mumbling to himself as though debating the proposition submitted to him.

"I don't want to make you a lot of trouble," he finally faltered out.

"Of course you don't, and won't," asserted Bart--"you want to give me pleasure, though, don't you? So you do as I suggest, and I'll sleep a good deal sounder than if you didn't. Here's the key. I will be over to the express office about eight o'clock. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes," answered the strange man.