He halted to survey the person who detained him--the man who haunted the
freight tracks--to whom he had given money earlier in the evening.

"Come, quick!" the man panted. "Express shed--where your father
is--trouble. Don't wait--not a minute."

"See here," challenged Bart, instantly startled into a new tremor of
anxiety, "what do you mean?"

But the forlorn roustabout could not be coherent. He continued 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?"