This may have been the first time a stranger had ever spoken to him after such a fashion. Perhaps he had had a cruel experience with the world, and was accustomed to looking upon all strangers as enemies.
But, now, the look of fear left his face, though there still remained that expression of agony.
"Reckon as how he's goin' tuh cash in, stranger," he said; and Max grasped the meaning of his words, although they were next door to Greek to Bandy-legs.
"Who do you mean by saying he?" asked Max.
"Dad," answered the forlorn specimen, drawing down the corners of his mouth.
"Is he sick?" continued Max.
"Nope. Got hurted bad. Falled down a big drop. Reckon like he's a sure goner," the boy whimpered.
"Where is he now?" the other asked, briskly.
"In our shack. He done crawled part way, an' wen I diskivered him I helped drag him home."
The lad said this latter a little proudly, as though he wanted these boys to understand that while he might look thin and puny, still he was not lacking in pure grit, and the ability to "do things."