"And the money, too, I suppose. Well, all I have to say is, that if I were in that boy's place my uncle would have to keep a double guard over me night and day. If I wanted to see my father I'd see him in spite of everybody. Besides, the boy is pretty near old enough to choose his own guardian."
"Don't say that," whispered the other, hastily. "Whatever you do, don't say that where he can hear it. That's a point of law that he doesn't know anything about, and his uncle wouldn't like to have him posted."
"Pooh! I shan't say anything. If I am employed to catch him as often as he runs away, so much the better for my pocket-book. I am too old to quarrel with my bread and butter."
When the entertainment was ended Joe Wayring and his chums left with the others, and close behind them in the aisle came the man in gray and his companion. In the hall they encountered two dense living streams that came pouring down from the galleries, and in the crush that followed the boys became separated. Joe and Arthur found each other again on the sidewalk, but nothing was to be seen of Roy. As Arthur locked arms with his friend to prevent a second separation, they noticed a little knot of curious people gathered by the curbstone, and saw a close carriage driven rapidly away.
"Move on!" exclaimed a burly policeman. "It's nothing at all except a fellow resisting arrest. Move on, please."
The two boys would have been glad to wait for Roy; but as the guardian of the night emphasized his order by resting his club lightly against Joe's back, they concluded that they had better move on. They walked the length of the block and then returned, but no Roy Sheldon was in sight. There were but few people coming out of the hall now, but there was the watchful policeman with his ready club and his stereotyped command:
"Move on, please. Don't block up the walk."
"Roy has certainly come out before this time, and that blue-coat has driven him away," said Joe. "He knows the road to the hotel, and there's where we shall find him."
The boys turned about and went down the street again, and the first thing that attracted their attention when they entered their hotel was the familiar uniform which they had adopted for their own—dark blue tights, white flannel shirt with blue trimmings, and white helmet. The boy who wore it was standing with his back to them, examining the register.
"I never noticed before that Roy was so fine a figure," whispered Arthur. "Look at the muscles on his legs. He fills out those tights as though he had been melted and poured into them."