“Oh, we use gasoline for that,” explained Nelson gravely. “Come on and let’s find the other joint.”
Their way lay through a number of extremely narrow and very crooked streets—only Dan contemptuously called them alleys—and because of the crowds it was usually necessary to proceed in single file. First there was Nelson as guide; then came Bob; then trotted Barry; at the other end of his leash was Dan; and Tom jogged along in the rear.
“Thunder!” exclaimed Bob at last. “The chap who laid out this town must have been crazy! I’ll bet you anything, fellows, this is the same lane we were on five minutes ago. Look here, Nelson, are you plumb certain you’re not lost?”
“Yes,” answered the other.
“Well, I’m not,” growled Dan. “I’m lost as anything. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I’d just like to——”
But at that moment a dray horse tried to walk up his back, and Dan’s remarks were cut short. When he had reached the other side of the street in safety he half turned his head and addressed himself to Tommy.
“Did you see that blamed horse?” he asked indignantly. “He deliberately tried to walk through me. Guess he mistook me for one of those short cuts that Nelson is always talking about. I’ve a good mind to go back and have him arrested.”
As there was no reply, Dan turned and looked back. Then:
“Whoa! Back up!” he shouted. “We’ve lost Tommy!”
Consternation reigned.