"Hello! here's somebody from Harrington's, now."
The same buckboard that had driven up the afternoon previous, came
dashing to the platform as McCarthy spoke.
It was in charge of the same driver, who promptly hailed Bart with the
words:
"That trunk gone yet?"
"No, not yet," answered Bart.
"Then I'm in time. Mrs. Harrington wanted to put something else in--this
box. Forgot it, yesterday," and the speaker fished up an oblong package
from the bottom of the wagon.
"It will have to go separate," explained Bart.
"Can't do that--it's a silk dress, and not wrapped for any hard usage.
Why, what's happened!" pressed the colonel's man, shrewdly scanning the
disturbed countenances of Bart and the watchman. "Door lock smashed,
too, and--say! I don't see the trunk!"
He had stepped to the platform and looked inside the express shed.
Bart thought it best to explain, and did so. It made him feel more
crestfallen than ever to trace in the way his auditor took it, that he
anticipated some pretty lively action when Mrs. Harrington was apprised
of her loss.
"You can tell Mrs. Harrington that everything possible is being done to
recover the trunk," Bart told the man as he drove off.
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