"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 identity 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 multitude 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 passed 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.