“Stop! What’s the matter here?” cried a voice to Dave; and the next moment a policeman came up beside him.
“That fellow ahead! I want to catch him!” burst out our hero. “He’s a thief!”
“Where?”
“There he goes, straight into the crowd!” answered Dave, and then hurried on once more, with his chums trailing behind him.
The chase so suddenly taken up did not, however, prove long. By the time Dave and his friends reached the next corner of the crowded thoroughfare Ward Porton had disappeared once 203 more and none of the youths could tell what direction he had taken.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, Dave,” said Luke, sympathetically. “He may have gone ahead and then again he may have turned to the right or to the left.”
“I don’t believe you’ll be able to locate him in such a crowd as this,” put in Buster. “What a shame that you weren’t able to get your hands on him!”
“I did have one hand on him, but he slipped away like a greased pig,” announced Dave, dolefully.
“Say, speaking about greased pigs puts me in mind of a story,” put in Shadow. “Once there were two boys––” and then, as his chums gave him a sudden cold look, he continued: “Oh, pshaw! what’s the use of trying to tell a story just now. I know Dave would rather find this fellow Porton.”
“You’re right there, Shadow!” answered our hero, quickly. “I’d rather get my hands on him than listen to a thousand stories.”