"No one did but yourself, just the same. Don't be cynical--you're
something of a hero, if you only knew it. It was you who went into the
burning express shed and saved the account books and closed the safe
door."

"Who says so?" muttered Baker.

"I say so, and you know it--don't you?"

Baker made no response.

"Do you know what all this means for me and my family?" went on Bart.
"You have done for me something I can never pay you for, something I can
never forget. You are true blue, Mr. Baker! That's the kind of a
worthless good-for-nothing person you are, and I want to call you my
friend! Hello, now what is the matter?"

The matter was that the roustabout was crying softly like a baby. Bart
was infinitely touched.

"I don't know your secrets," continued Bart earnestly, "and I certainly
shall not pry into them without your permission, but I want to repay
your kindness in some way. I can't rest till I do. All I can do is to
guess out that you are in some trouble, maybe hiding. Well, let me share
your troubles, let me hide you in a more comfortable way than lounging
around cold freight cars with half enough to eat. You've done something
grand in the last twenty-four hours--don't lose sight of that in
mourning over your sins, if you have any, or in running away from some
shadow that scares you. I'm not the only one who thinks you're a hero,