Ned Wilding's Disappearance Part 27

"I lost my position a month ago. Since then I have only managed to earn enough to live, and it was hard work at times. I hadn't had anything to eat all day yesterday," he went on, "and I was cold and weak. I was on my way to the river, thinking I could find a place on the wharves to sleep, when I stumbled and fell into the s...o...b..nk. When I was down it felt so warm there I decided to stay. I didn't care what became of me."

"But you do now, don't you?" asked Frank.

"Do I?" asked the boy eagerly. "Say, will you lend me a stamp so I can write home to mother?"

"We'll do better than that," said Bart. "We'll send her a telegram."

When the message had been forwarded to Mrs. Perry, telling her of the unexpected finding of her wandering boy, the three chums told the waif their reason for being in New York.

"And you haven't been able to find a trace of Ned, eh?" asked William, musingly.

"Not a trace," replied Frank. "But don't let our troubles worry you. You must get strong and hurry home to your mother."

"Say, let me help you!" exclaimed William eagerly. "Maybe I can pay you back for your kindness. I know New York like a book. I've knocked all around it for the last six months. Maybe I can locate Ned for you. I know lots of places where fellows go when they're down on their luck, as I was. Let me help. Mother won't mind when I write and tell her I'm going to stay here a few days longer, when she knows what it's for. I believe I can help you."

"Perhaps you can," said Fenn.

So it was arranged that William was to stay with the three chums at the hotel for a few days. He was not to venture out until the next day, however, as he was still weak.

"Will you be all right if we leave you alone here?" asked Frank a little later. "We want to go out and make some inquiries."

"Sure. Go ahead," replied William. "I'm so happy now I'll not be lonesome."

The three chums went to police headquarters to ask if any news concerning Ned had been received, but there was none for them. The sergeant behind the desk tried to cheer them up by remarking that "no news was good news."

"We must find him pretty soon," Bart declared. "If we don't I'll begin to believe something bad has happened."

As they were walking along the Bowery, in the neighborhood of the cheap variety theaters, they were attracted by a flaming poster which announced the various performers who could be seen or heard. They paused and read it through. There were men who imitated monkeys, trained birds, strong men, women who sang, bands of musicians, and at the bottom of the poster was the announcement.

HEAR JOHN NEWTON, THE GREAT BIRD WHISTLER.

"John Newton," murmured Fenn. "That name sounds familiar."

"Of course it does," replied Frank. "That's the name of the chap who was expelled from our high school last term."

"So it was. But this can't be the same one."

"I think it is," suggested Fenn. "Don't you remember, he said he was going to New York to be an actor? I heard he had some sort of a job in a theater. Maybe this is he. Let's go in and see."

They bought tickets and entered. The whistling was the last thing on the program, the theater being one where a "continuous performance" was given. A boy came out on the stage and began to whistle, giving imitations of various birds. He did very well, but the three chums were more interested in the ident.i.ty of the lad than in his performance.

"It is John Newton, from Darewell," whispered Bart. "I never knew he could whistle like that."

"He was always practicing at it," declared Fenn, "but he's improved a lot since I last heard him in Darewell."

"Let's find out if we can't see him," suggested Frank, as they went from the theater and inquired their way back of the scenes.

CHAPTER XXV

NED SHOVELS SNOW

A mult.i.tude of thoughts rushed through Ned's mind as he stood in the restaurant awaiting the arrival of the policeman for whom the cashier had sent. He could not imagine what had become of his money. He knew his pockets had no holes in them and he came to the conclusion he must have dropped it on the bed in the lodging house instead of putting it in his overcoat. But he knew he must think of something besides the lost money, as any moment the officer might appear and take him to the police station.

He looked across the street to where a man was shoveling snow from the sidewalk. Then a bright idea came to Ned. He turned to the cashier who was looking at him vindictively and asked:

"Can't I shovel your walk off and pay for my breakfast that way?"

"Humph! That's a different proposition," the cashier replied. "If you're willing to do the square thing, I guess we are, too. Only don't try any trick like that again. I s'pose if I let you take a shovel you'll not skip out with it?"

"I'm not in the habit of stealing," Ned answered indignantly.

"I don't know anything about your habits," the man answered. "I only know a fellow worked that game on me once and I don't intend to be caught again. I'll give you thirty cents for cleaning the walk. That'll pay for your meal and be fifteen cents over. You can take it or go to jail."

"I'll take it," Ned exclaimed. "Where's the shovel?"

"I'll be watching you," the clerk went on. "If you try the sneaking act I'll have the cop after you."

"You needn't be afraid," rejoined Ned.

The waiter came back to report that the policeman would be there in a few minutes.

"Go and tell him it's all right," the clerk said. "The kid's going to shovel the walk to pay for his grub."

The waiter, not much relishing his second trip through the storm, scowled at Ned as he pa.s.sed our hero, but the boy was so pleased at the escape from his predicament that he did not mind the waiter's black looks.

Ned made a good job of cleaning the walk. The snow was not falling so heavily now, though the storm was far from being over.

"I think I could get work at this if I only had a shovel," Ned thought as he put the finishing touches on his task. "Maybe the clerk would lend me this one."

He made the request when he went in to get his pay.

"I'll leave the fifteen cents with you as security for the shovel," he said, when he had made his request.

"That's a hot one; fifteen cents security on a dollar and a half shovel,"

the clerk replied with a laugh. "Still, you look honest, though I had my doubts at first," he added. "Go ahead, take the shovel. Never mind about leaving the money. You'll need it to get dinner with. Bring the shovel back to-night."

Thus was Ned started in business. He got several jobs at cleaning sidewalks, and at noon had earned two dollars. He went back to the restaurant, returned the shovel and got dinner. The cashier he had dealt with had gone, but the one who had relieved him knew about the transaction. When Ned had finished his fifteen cent dinner, for that was all he allowed himself, the waitress brought him a big piece of pie.

"I didn't order that," he said, though he looked at it longingly.

"The cashier says it's his treat," the girl replied with a smile, and Ned had no further compunctions about eating it.

"I told the other fellow you wouldn't bring the shovel back," the cashier remarked as Ned paid his check.