"Go on!" the leader of the orchestra whispered hoarsely, and from the wings he heard the angry command of the stage manager:
"Get to work, boy! Do you want to queer the whole show?"
Jet nerved himself to begin the dance, but he was so exceedingly awkward that several of the audience guyed him, a fact which deprived him of the small remnant of self-possession remaining.
Without stopping to consider what the result might be, he ran at full speed from the stage, and the spectators hooted and yelled derisively.
"What is the matter with you?" the manager asked fiercely, as he shook Jet until his teeth chattered.
"Them men are there!" the boy cried brokenly. "I must go right out an' get hold of them."
"You'll go and stay, you little villain! If you couldn't dance I wouldn't say a word, but I know what you are able to do. Where are you off to now?"
"I want to change these clothes so's I can go around to the front of the house."
"What for?"
"Them men are there, an' I've got to find out where they're stopping."