For several seconds the young men stared wonderingly at this forlorn being, as if trying to account for his presence. Finally Bob broke the silence.
“What’s it all about?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
The boy hesitated a moment, looked up at Bob and Joe, and then, satisfied that he could confide in them, spoke.
“I—I was caught behind that stuff,” he stammered. “I hid under a pile of bags when they loaded the car so they wouldn’t find me.”
“But why were you in the car?” demanded Joe. “Where are you going?”
The boy waited a moment before replying.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, dropping his head.
There was something about this youngster’s frankness that moved the youths to pity.
“Come,” urged Bob, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “tell us about it. Why did you run away from home?”