“I cannot seem to think that you should go,” objected the major.  “It is a big city, and suppose Travers should fail to meet you?”

“Then I’ll meet him,” promptly answered Dorothy.  “Just give me all the directions and I will find any police station in Rochester.  Besides, I’ll have Tavia, and she has been there—­through the city—­often.”

“Well, it does seem the only way, for if we fail to identify Anderson he may be released, and I fancy he would never walk into our hands again.”

“Now, not another thought, but how we are to go?” and Dorothy drew her chair up to his desk.  “Tell me all about it now, so I can have it all settled in my mind to-night.  Then to-morrow, all we will have to do is depart.  My! we are becoming famous travelers!”

Very late that night Major Dale still sat at his desk.  It was a serious matter for him to allow his only daughter to go into a strange city and then to a police court to identify a criminal.  But how else could he carry out his sacred obligation to Burlock?  How else could he fulfill his duty to the lost child?

And Dorothy too, was troubled that night.  Would she really have courage to undertake the trip to a big city and then—?

But she, too, had made a promise, and she, too, felt the voice of the dead father and the voice or the neglected child crying for justice.

Dorothy Dale did not hesitate—­she would go.

Next morning Tavia bounced around like a toy balloon.  To think of going to Rochester, and into a police court—­what could be more delightfully sensational?  And perhaps they would have their names in the papers, their pictures, she ventured to suggest.  “The two girls from Dalton!” “A striking scene in the police court!” These and other “striking things” she outlined to serious Dorothy, who now in the early morning sat so close to the car window, and seemed to hear nothing of the foolish prattle, as the train rattled on.

“Don’t be a funeral, Doro,” objected Tavia.  “It’s the best fun I ever dreamed of.  Wait till they call on me to testify!  Ahem!  Won’t I make a stir!”

“But we are not going to testify at all—­”

“Same thing.  We are to go before a lot of handsome officers, and they will be so careful of our feelings, of course.  I hope I blush!  It’s always so nice to blush in print!”

Whether her nonsense was all frivolity, or somewhat calculated to distract the over serious Dorothy, would have taken an expert in human nature to decide, and there were many other things about Tavia quite as bewildering; but Dorothy was patient, she knew Tavia would not disappoint her when the test came.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE LITTLE CAPTAIN—­CONCLUSION

“Wasn’t it mean,” grumbled Tavia, “I thought it would be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic enough for me,” answered Dorothy.  “I felt a chill steal all over me when I put my hand on that man’s arm, and said, ‘This is he!’ Ugh, I have the rub of his sleeve still on my palm,” and Dorothy tried to efface the memory of it on her small white hand by rubbing it briskly on her linen skirt.