He did not find it until the ex-train boy had knocked over two more "bunnies" and as Fred continued to keep ahead of him in the amount of game bagged, Mr. Paul Bowman soon became disgusted and proposed a return to the hotel, where he would have an opportunity to finish his perusal of the New York papers by the reading-room stove.
As Fred's nose was being nipped by the frost, and he felt that he had wrought sufficient destruction among the rabbit tribe, he readily fell in with the suggestion.
Half an hour later he was thawing himself out when Bowman suddenly looked up from the World and asked abruptly:
"Did you ever hear of John Wainwright, the broker and banker?"
Fred was on his guard and answered cautiously:
"Yes, I believe I have heard of him. He has an office on Broadway, hasn't he?"
"No, on Wall Street."
"Did you ever work for him?"
"No; but an acquaintance of mine did," said Bowman carelessly. "He's got a pile of money, I expect."
"Very likely. Most bankers have, haven't they?"