Soon the sounds changed, and all knew that they had passed through the underground way, and the scattered lights of the streets could be seen again. As the boys turned once more to glance behind them, Jock emitted a shout; for there, standing quietly in the aisle, was the missing member of the band, Bob Darnell himself.
“Where did you come from, Bob?” shouted Jock, delightedly, as he grasped his friend’s hand. “We thought we’d lost you.”
“It’s mighty easy to get lost in this town of yours. Who would want to live in such a place?” replied Bob, quietly.
“But where were you? How did you get aboard? We waited and waited for you, but you didn’t come. Tell us about it,” exclaimed the eager boys, as they made room for their friend to take the vacant seat.
“You might have known I’d be here. You needn’t have wasted your precious thoughts on me.”
“I know it, Bob, but I don’t see how you got here,” said Jock.
“You city chaps don’t understand, and you never will,” replied Bob. “You always rush around as if you hadn’t a minute to spare. What’s the good of it, I’d like to know?”
“Not much good, if we could only be as sure of being on time as you are, Bob,” said Bert. “Why don’t you tell us how you did it?”
“There isn’t anything to tell. My train got in about an hour ago, and I went up on Madison Avenue to Jock’s house. They told me he’d gone to the station with you fellows, and they all seemed to be very much excited about it, too. All they could say to me was: ‘Hurry up. Make haste, or you’ll be left.’ Queer folks, these New Yorkers.”
“Well, you did almost get left, didn’t you?”