"Look! Look what he's got down in his notebook! He's got a drawing of that footprint we saw! He's been cleverer than we thought!"
Clear-Orf tiptoed up to the tramp and tried His best to see what sort of shoes he had on. He, too, did as Lany had done and knelt down, the better to see. And the tramp opened His eyes!"
His astonishment at seeing the policeman kneeling in front of him was enormous. It was one thing to see a boy behaving like that, but quite another thing to see a policeman. The tramp leapt to His feet with a howl.
"First it's a boy bowing down to me and now it's a bobby!" he said, jamming his old hat down on his long grey hair. "What's it all about?"
"I want to see your shoes," said Clear-Orf.
"Well, see them, then! Look at them well, laces and all!" said the tramp, rapidly losing His temper.
"I want to see the soles," said the policeman stolidly.
"Are you a cobbler or a policeman?" asked the tramp. "Well - you show me the buttons on your shirt, and I'll show you the soles of my shoes!"
The policeman began to breathe very heavily, and his face got red. He snapped his notebook shut.
"You'd better come-alonga-me," he said. The tramp didn't think so. He skipped out of the way and began to run across the field, very nimbly indeed for an old fellow. Clear-Orf gave a roar, and turned to run after him.