Doby did not own a handkerchief. Few pioneer boys did. When he wanted a rag to clean a gun, or to scrub a rabbit-trap, or to bind a wounded knee, or to do any of the things a boy needs a handkerchief for, he had to tear a piece from his homespun shirt or use some other substitute. At this moment the 'coon's tail was the handy thing. "I'm not cry--cry--cry--ing," he choked. "I'm just thinking how sor--sor--sor--ry I am because it is my knife that makes the trial--be--cause--cause the cobbler's son is such a bad boy that he had to be arrested." Now the cobbler was a hunched-back dwarf who went from one settler's homestead to another, making shoes for each family. He was a useful guest in the cabins. Everybody liked him. He was as honest as honest could be. But the cobbler's son--a hulking fellow--"took after" his "ma's folks" and was "light-fingered." The homely treasures of the wagon-train had tempted him. While following his father around he had looted it of small trinkets. For his father's sake, Corydon had already forgiven him much petty thieving among his townspeople; but when he robbed the town's guests under the assembled eyes of the greatest lawyers in the whole region it seemed like a defiance of the new State, and of the convention and of the constitution as well. So it was resolved to make an example of this unruly citizen; to arrest, try, and punish him by a due process of law during a recess of the convention. And Doby, because his knife was the most important thing stolen, was the chief witness against him. To change the unhappy current of the boy's thoughts, his father said: "It will be hot in the State House to-day. I hope they will move the session out of doors under that big elm close by. They have talked of doing that as a matter of comfort," and Mr. Holman fanned himself with his fur cap. "To-day they are doing it," Doby declared as they came in sight of the giant elm with its spread of some hundred and fifty feet of grateful shade. There the delegates were sitting on chairs, boxes, boards, and stumps, and going on most comfortably with the work in hand. And there Doby, pressed into service for the refreshment of the convention, bore a bucket of spring water and a gourd, from one distinguished politician to another, serving the ones who wanted a drink, and looking into their strong faces, listening to their debates, and watching for the important decisions. These delegates had come together from all parts of the new State. And since there were no turnpikes nor plank roads nor canals any place in the State, some were splattered with the mire of swampy valleys, some were dusty from the windy hilltops, some were in worn hunting garb, and some had on their farming clothes of homespun. Others had been able to pick their way over better trails and by a process of seeming magic were able to bloom out all "dressed up" for the occasion.