"Why do you say that?" demanded the other, keeping his eyes on the eagerly beckoning boy who was emerging from the thicket.
"Might be a trap, you know," Bandy-legs went on. "Heard about such things. The little critter may be just toling us on like they train a dog to do down in the duck regions along Chesapeake Bay."
"Oh, rats!" Max remarked. "That look of terror on his face ain't put on. You mark my words, Bandy-legs, he's in a hole of some kind, and wants us to lend him a hand, see?"
"But where's the hole?" asked the other.
"Oh! come off, won't you? I mean he's in trouble. But here we are, and we'll soon know."
As Max said these last words he allowed a reassuring smile to creep over his face. He realized that the ragged boy was in some condition of genuine distress; and Max had too kind a heart to even dream of adding to the poor lad's mental agony.
"Hello! who are you, and what's the matter?" he asked, as they drew up alongside the smaller boy.
"I'm Jim, mister, an' I'm in a heap o' trouble," the boy said, with an effort.
"Well, Jim, we want to be friends," Max went on. "Suppose you tell us what it's all about, won't you?"
Something in his cheery tone, as well as the kind expression upon his face, seemed to give renewed confidence to the poor little chap.