"That will be quite fine," said Bart. "I brought some books and blanks with me, and, if you can spare the time, I would like to have you see how our system strikes you." "Sure. Come in--no, that is, I'll bring out a chair. I keep only one record. I've got this business simplified down to a lead pencil and a scratch book, see?" Bart did "see," and knew that the express inspector had "seen," also. 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. I've been posting up on express business, you see, maybe that's the matter. Read about fellows hiding in boxes, and jumping out and murdering the messenger. Read about enemies sending a man exploding bombs, and blowing him to pieces." "Nonsense, Mr. Pope!" said Bart, "you don't look as if you had an enemy in the world." "I haven't," declared Peter Pope, "but every business man has his rivals, of course. I've heard that those city chaps have an eye on any fellow that makes a record like I'm making here. They don't want to see him get ahead. They must guess that I'm in line for a big promotion, and that might worry them into playing some tragical trick on me." Bart wanted to laugh outright. He kept a straight face, and solemnly started to investigate the trouble. He stepped into the express room and took a keen look around, Pope timorously following him. "There!" panted Pope suddenly, "what did I tell you?" "That's so," said Bart. "It is sort of mysterious. Someone groaned, sure. What have you here, anyway?" Bart went over to a heap of express matter, come in just that morning. There were several small crates, a box or two, and a very large trunk. Bart centered his attention on this latter. He stooped down as his quick eye observed a row of holes at one end, just under the hauling strap. "Quiet, for a minute," he whispered warningly to Pope, who, big-eyed and trembling, resembled a man on the threshold of some most appalling discovery.