Bart Stirlings Road to Success

THE THIRD OF JULY


"You can't go in that room."

"Why can't I?"

"Because that's the orders; and you can't smoke in this room."

Bart Stirling spoke in a definite, manly fashion.

Lemuel Wacker dropped his hand from the door knob on which it rested,
and put his pipe in his pocket, but his shoulders hunched up and his
unpleasant face began to scowl.

"Ho!" he snorted derisively, "official of the company, eh? Running
things, eh?"

"I am--for the time being," retorted Bart, cheerfully.

"Well," said Wacker, with an ugly sidelong look, "I don't take
insolence from anyone with the big head. I reckon ten year's service
with the B. & M. entitles a man to know his rights."

"Very active service just now, Mr. Wacker?" insinuated Bart pleasantly.

Lem Wacker flushed and winced, for the pointed question struck home.

"I don't want no mistering!" he growled. "Lem's good enough for me. And
I don't take no call-down from any stuck-up kid, I want you to
understand that."

"You'd better get to the crossing if you're making any pretense of real
work," suggested Bart just then.

As he spoke Bart pointed through the open window across the tracks to
the switch shanty at the side of the street crossing.

A train was coming. Mr. Lemuel Wacker was "subbing" as extra for the
superannuated old cripple whose sole duty was to wave a flag as trains
went by. To this duty Wacker sprang with alacrity.