It seemed a hopeless task. They did not know where to look, but first tried all the seats around the bandstand and the settees on the great porches behind the pillars of the Administration and Fine Arts Building.
Then they drove the car over to the greenhouse, but all was quiet and deserted there. At the suggestion of the Sergeant, they went to the Hospital but no boy had been brought in. Once more they approached the gate, and again they left the car, And looked silently about in the darkness.
Beany was trembling with fear; fear for the brother whom he loved.
He placed his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill, clear whistle. Three times he repeated the call that sounded like some night bird's song.
Then, as they listened, it was repeated. It was a muffled sound, yet close. Once more Beany gave the signal, this time with a leaping heart, and the answer came clear and keen, as though a lid had been taken off.
Beany ran in the direction of the sound. As he passed the flower-house, Porky hailed him.
"Hey!" he said. "Got a knife?"
Guided by Porky's voice, Beany and the Sergeant raced across the grass.
"Here I am!" said Porky, cocky as you please. "Say, I wish you could see this knot! I have worked about all night over it, and it gets tighter and tighter."
The Sergeant whipped out a knife and cut the cord.