“What’s the matter, Vic?” asked Pep, puzzled at the downcast appearance of their young friend, who had left them so full of hope.
“Nothing,” answered Vic, dismally, “only someone has stolen my camels.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE LOST CAMELS
“Your camels stolen!” exclaimed Pep in his excitable way. “Say, that’s bad. Are you sure of it?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Vic, in a dispirited fashion. “They’re gone.”
“Come inside,” invited Frank. “I’ll fix it after this so you won’t have to ask permission,” and, after indicating to the guard that Vic was a favored friend, he led the way to the auditorium.
“Oh, say! but you’ve fixed it up fine; haven’t you?” ejaculated Vic the moment his eyes took in the scene about him.
“These are pretty busy times, Vic,” said Frank as they sat down in the rear row of seats. “You see, we are getting ready for the opening. All the same, we must find time to help our friends where we can. Now then, tell us your troubles.”
“There’s only one, the big one, the camels,” replied Vic, soberly. “You know how kind you were in giving me the money to go down to Wardham, and advising me how to set about selling the camels. I felt pretty good when I started out. You know I met an old circus man. He said that it would take time to find just the show that wanted some camels, but there were city parks, and using them advertising, to fall back on. He said that four healthy camels ought to sell for several thousand dollars.”
“Yes, Vic,” observed Frank; “go ahead with your story.”