He
wondered why Pope did not take him into the office. He marveled still
more as, watching Pope, he noticed he hesitated at the door of the
express shed. Then Pope moved forward as if actually unwilling to enter
the place.
Half a minute after he had disappeared within the shed, Pope came
rushing out, pale and flustered. He tumbled over the chair he was
bringing to Bart, and a book he carried went flying from under his arm
into the dirt of the road beyond the platform.
"Why," exclaimed Bart, in some surprise, "what is the matter, Mr. Pope?"
"Matter!" gasped Pope, his eyes rolling, as he backed away from the
doorway, "say, that place is haunted!"
"What place?"
"The express room. I've been worried for an hour. It's nigh tuckered me
out."
"What has?" inquired Bart
"Groans, hisses, rustlings. I thought a while back that someone was
hiding in among the express stuff, and trying to scare me. 'Taint so,
though. I went among it, and there's no place for anybody to hide."
"Oh, pshaw!" said Bart reassuringly, "you are only nervous, Mr. Pope.
It's some live freight, likely. Can I take a look?"
"Sure--wish you would.
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