ed to gasp
and splutter out excited adjectives, fragmentary sentences.

"Plot--get you into trouble--father--I heard 'em."

Then as his glance fell upon the people coming up the hill, the officers
in their lead, his eyes bulged with terror, he grasped Bart's arm, let
out an unearthly yell of fear, and by sheer force carried Bart
pell-mell down the other side of the hill with him.

"See here," panted Bart, as, still running, they were headed in the
direction of the railroad, "my business is here. Don't you hurry me off
in this fashion unless there's something to it."

"Told you--express shed--robbers!"

"Robbers? You mean some one is stealing something there?"

"Yes!" gulped Bart's companion.

"Who is it?"

"Don't know."

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"I don't dare do anything," the man wailed. "I'm a poor, miserable
object, but I'm your friend. I heard two fellows whispering on the
tracks near the express shed. Said they were going to steal some
fireworks. I ran to the shed to warn your father. He was asleep in his
chair. They might see me--didn't dare do anything."

Bart now believed there might be some basis to the man's statements. He
plunged forward alone, not conscious that he was outdistancing his late
companion.

Reaching the tracks, Bart ran down a line of freights. The express shed
was in view at last. It was lighted up as usual, the door stood open,
and nothing suggested anything out of the ordinary.

"The fellow's cracked," reflected Bart. "Everything looks straight
here--no, it doesn't!" He checked himself abruptly. "Here! what are you
at?"

Sharp and clear Bart sang out. Approaching the express shed from the
side, his glance shifted to the rear.

The little structure had one window there, lightly barred with metal
strips. Two men stood on the platform beneath it. One of them had just
pried a strip loose with some long implement he held in his hand. The
other had just pushed up the sash by reaching through the convenient
aperture thus made.

Bart bounded to the platform with a nimble spring. As his feet clamped
down warningly on the boardway, the man who had pushed up the window
turned sharply.

"It's young Stirling!" Bart heard him mutter. "Drop it, and run."

The speaker sprang to the ground and disappeared around the corner of
the shed with the words.

His companion, who had been stooping on one knee in his prying
operations, essayed to join him, slipped, tilted over, and before h