“Look here, old man,” he said to the policeman, “law or no law, duty or no duty, you can't take the responsibility of this thing on your shoulders. I'm a fair judge of men, and I am sure it would be wrong to send this boy up. You know he is only doing what you or I would do if hard luck drove us to it. Say, old man, I'm dead broke myself, I haven't a dollar in my pocket, and I am out of a job besides; but I've got a good solid gold watch in my pocket, and if you will let him go I'll give it to you.” The officer wavered; he stared, speechless, for a moment, colored high, then shrugged his shoulders. “I reckon my duty _does_ allow me to sorter discriminate,” he faltered. “I haven't seen the chap actually riding, either. But I won't take any bribes--I wouldn't take one from _you_, anyway. You are about as white a chap as I've run across in many a day, and I'm going to drop the dang thing. God knows, I don't want your watch! But, say, don't get _me_ into trouble. I've got a family to support, and I must hold my job. Get the fellow out of the freight-yards before the town wakes up. There are cops on our force who would drag him in by the heels. Car-grease like he's got smeared all over him is a dead give-away. Say, young man, take a fool's advice: get out on the country roads. You'll make it all right among the farms.” “You won't take the watch, then?” Fred held the timepiece toward him, its golden chain swinging. “No, I don't want it. But hurry up! Get him out of the yards!” “Come on, and I'll show you the way,” Walton said to the boy, when the officer had gone. And without a word, so overjoyed was he by the sudden turn in his favor, the begrimed youth dumbly followed his rescuer across the tracks to a quiet little street bordered by diminutive cottages. On they trudged through street after street till, just as the first rays of sunlight were breaking through the clouds, they found the open country before them. For miles and miles it stretched away to blue hills in the vague, misty distance. “I can make out all right now,” the boy said, with a grateful glance at his rescuer, as they paused. “I don't want to take you farther out of your way. God knows, I'll not forget your kindness till my dying day. You don't know what you've saved me from. I'd have killed myself rather than be sent up. I've heard what those places are like. If you will tell me your name and where your home is, I'll write back to you.” Walton's eyes met those of his companion. “Huh!” he said, gloomily, “I'm as homeless as you are, my boy. The truth is, I don't know where to turn, myself, and really the thought of parting with you, for some reason or other, hurts me. I need a companion worse than I ever did in my life. Say, will you let me go with you?”