Something fell to the floor, as Toots pulled out his handkerchief. It lay in sight of Dick, who was propped up in bed.
"What's that?" he asked. "You dropped something."
The man picked it up, and Dick saw that it was a marksman's bronze medal.
"Let me see that," he said, quickly, and the janitor passed it over.
"Why this was given to some soldier, for good shooting," went on our hero, as he tried to decipher the name on it. "Where did you get it, Toots?"
"Blessed if I know, Mr. Hamilton. I've had it a long time. It was given to me by some friend, I expect. I found it the other day in my trunk. I'd forgotten I had it. But if it's a marksman's badge, I'm going to wear it. I'm a good shot."
Dick looked more closely at it. Besides the name of some soldier the badge contained the name of the command to which he had belonged, but everything save the letters "mie, Wyo." were obliterated by dents and scratches.
A sudden thought came to Dick. It was in connection with Toot's half-recognition of the picture of missing Bill Handlee. It was evident that Toots knew something of the captain's son, but he could not straighten out the kink in his memory, and possibly this marksman's badge might be a clue. Dick hoped so, and he decided to try to learn from what fort or command the medal had been given.
"I wish you'd let me take this for a few days, Toots," he said. "I'll take good care of it."
"All right, Mr. Hamilton, but don't lose it. If it's what you say it is, I'm going to wear it, to show I'm a good shot. Then I won't have to be telling people all the while. They can see it for themselves."