“I guess he’s just mixed up in the crowd,” murmured Larry, trying to make himself believe nothing harmful had befallen Jimmy. “He’s so little that I can’t see him. I’ll soon find him, though.”
Then Larry caught sight of a policeman he knew, and hurried up to the officer.
“I’ve lost my little brother, Mr. Sullivan,” he said. “Where had I better start to look for him?”
“Hello, Larry, me boy!” the officer exclaimed good-naturedly, for he had taken quite a fancy to the young reporter since Larry had given him a little puff in the paper about stopping a runaway horse. “In trouble, eh? Well, I’ll show you what we do with lost children. We have a regular place for ’em here in the Garden. They’re always gettin’ lost, and their fathers an’ mothers is half crazy. Come with me.”
Officer Sullivan led the way to a small room off the main offices of those in charge of the show. It was an apartment fitted up for the care of lost children. The management had found that scores of tots whom their parents brought to the circus got lost every day, and the policemen on duty at the show had orders to bring them to the “nursery,” as it was called. There were two nurses and a matron in charge to look after the little folk.
“Here’s a lad to claim one of your lost children, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Sullivan, as he took Larry to the matron. “His little brother is missing.”
“What is he like?” asked the matron.
Larry described Jimmy as well as he could.
“Let me see,” mused Mrs. Weston. “No, I don’t believe I have your brother in here yet, though I may get him at any moment. Now if he was a year or two younger I’m sure I could fix you up, as I have some that answer his description perfectly, except for age. You’re sure you can’t be mistaken?”
“I’m sure,” replied Larry, who was beginning to become more worried.