“What’s the matter, fellows?” propounded Randy, as he noticed Pep arising to his feet and, also, the evident perturbation of Vic.
Pep gave him a nudge and a look which told his quick-witted comrade that something was up. The trio crowded past the others in the seat and started for the door. Pep shot a glance backward. He caught sight of the man who had sat directly behind them and whom they had every reason to believe was a spy on their movements, staring after them in a wondering and undecided manner.
Pep led the way to the sidewalk, out of the way of passing pedestrians and possible watchers from the playhouse.
“Now then, Vic,” he challenged—“what’s new and strange?”
“That film!” gulped Vic, his face pale and his frame in a quiver of excitement.
“You mean that camel reel?” inquired Pep.
“Just that. Say, I thought I’d holler right out! That camel was mine!”
“You mean to say it is a picture of one of your stolen camels,” asked Pep.
“Sure—don’t I tell you so?” retorted Vic. “Why, I’d know him anywhere.”
“Camels are a good deal alike—” began Randy, but Vic interrupted him with the words: