“We might hire them,” reflected Tom. “Well, we will see how your friend Mr. Duff gets along. He may do all right.”
“He’d be fine,” laughed Willard, “if folks weren’t particular about getting their trunks the day they arrived!”
On the whole, however, Mr. Duff proved, during the next fortnight, fairly satisfactory. Several times, when he had trunks to deliver to different addresses he managed to get them mixed and so left them at the wrong places, and he was exasperatingly slow, but for that matter Connors himself was far from infallible and Audelsville was not very exacting in such matters.
A few days after Willard had made his arrangement with Mr. Duff an incident occurred that ended all semblance of neutrality between the rival companies. The new pinion had arrived and been put in place and The Ark was running splendidly. Perhaps a more critical judge than either Tom or Willard might have found fault with the car on the score of excessive noise, but the owners were quite satisfied. The night before Tom had taken a party of four to Graywich and back, thereby adding the sum of six dollars to the firm’s exchequer, and had not reached his bed until after midnight. As he arose every morning at six he had not had much slumber and, consequently, was feeling a bit sleepy as he waited at the platform for the arrival of the 9:01 train. As a rule the first train from the east dropped few passengers at Audelsville and Willard’s services at the station were scarcely needed. So he seldom accompanied The Ark on its first trip and Tom was alone on the seat when Pat Herron drove up and took his place back of the car. Tom glanced about and then closed his eyes again. Of late Connors had been sending only the hack to the station, for the automobile had cut into his business so that the surrey was no longer necessary, and so when an instant later Tom heard wheels alongside he paid no attention, supposing the passing vehicle to be a private carriage. Suddenly there was a crash and a jar and Tom was rudely shaken out of his doze. A heavy express wagon had backed into the front of The Ark. As Tom sprang to his feet the driver of the wagon, Johnny Green, was looking back with vast concern.
“Git ap, you old fool!” he cried to his horse, waving his whip mightily. The horse obeyed, but when the wagon had pulled a foot or two away a sudden tightening on the lines brought it back again against the car. Tom, already on the ground and fighting-mad, made a dash at the horse’s bridle.
“Leave him be!” bawled Johnny. “Take your hand from him!”
But Tom, tugging, pulled the prancing horse several yards up the platform, Johnny threatening him with whip and tongue.
“You did that on purpose!” declared Tom angrily.
“I did not! He backed before I could stop him! And, anyway, you leave my horse alone after this!”