It was an unusual and highly inflammable heap, and when tired Mr.
Sterling went home to snatch a bite of something to eat, and lazy Lem
Wacker came strolling into the place, pipe in full blast, Bart had not
hesitated to exercise his brief authority. A spark among that tinder
pile would mean sure and swift destruction. Besides, light-fingered Lem
Wacker was not to be trusted where things lay around loose.
So Bart had squelched him promptly and properly. 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. It was six o'clock, the quitting hour.
Lem was always on time on such occasions. The whistle from the shops had
ceased echoing, and, his dinner pail on his arm and filling his
inevitable pipe, he paused for a moment.
"Going to shut up shop?" he inquired with affected carelessness.
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