“May we go with you?”
“Of course you may. And if you want to say a good word for the old fellow to Judge Abbott, I’ll fix it so you can,” he added.
“That is so kind of you!” Dorothy said. “You see, he is a Grand Army man.”
“Mebbe he stole the button, Miss,” growled one of the police.
Dorothy turned swiftly to the prisoner. His old face was drawn and haggard. Dorothy put her finger upon the button on the frayed lapel of his coat.
“Where did you get that, sir?” she asked.
Almost instantly the dull eyes brightened. The sagging chin came up and the old shoulders were squared.
“It belongs to me, Miss,” he said, in a broken voice. “I am an army man—oh, yes! Thank you. I—I been in the Home; but I couldn’t stay indoor. So—so I ran away.”
“Ran away!” gasped Dorothy. “And where were you running to?”
“To the great out-of-doors,” whispered the old man. “I always lived in the open. I prospected, and I hunted, and I worked—all through these hills,” and he pointed westward.