"Aha!" he said suddenly, bending his ear as a strain of distant circus music floated on the air. "Show on, I'll be late. I'll call later—"
"No, you don't!" interrupted Pope, recovering from his fright, and placing his bulky form in the doorway.
"Don't what, my friend?" mildly asked the Professor.
"Deadhead—beat the express company. You're one trunk—and excess weight."
"I don't dispute it. What, then?"
"Pay," promptly and definitely announced the agent.
"Can't. Haven't a cent. That's why I had to get a friend to ship me this way. But he said he'd wire ahead to my partner with the circus, who would call for me here. I'll go and find him, and settle the bill."
"You don't leave here until those charges are paid. You want to be rapid, too," declared Pope, "or I'll see if the railroad company don't want to collect fare, as well."
"Want to keep me here, eh?" murmured the Professor thoughtfully. "Well, I'm agreeable, only you'll have to feed and bed me. If I'm live stock, I demand live-stock privileges, see?"
The express agent looked worried.