They bought tickets and entered. The whistling was the last thing on the program, the theater being one where a “continuous performance” was given. A boy came out on the stage and began to whistle, giving imitations of various birds. He did very well, but the three chums were more interested in the identity of the lad than in his performance.
“It is John Newton, from Darewell,” whispered Bart. “I never knew he could whistle like that.”
“He was always practicing at it,” declared Fenn, “but he’s improved a lot since I last heard him in Darewell.”
“Let’s find out if we can’t see him,” suggested Frank, as they went from the theater and inquired their way back of the scenes.
CHAPTER XXV
NED SHOVELS SNOW
A multitude of thoughts rushed through Ned’s mind as he stood in the restaurant awaiting the arrival of the policeman for whom the cashier had sent. He could not imagine what had become of his money. He knew his pockets had no holes in them and he came to the conclusion he must have dropped it on the bed in the lodging house instead of putting it in his overcoat. But he knew he must think of something besides the lost money, as any moment the officer might appear and take him to the police station.
He looked across the street to where a man was shoveling snow from the sidewalk. Then a bright idea came to Ned. He turned to the cashier who was looking at him vindictively and asked: