"But I jest has tuh, 'case it's been a-burnin' in here ever so long, an' never anybody tuh tell," and Jim slapped his hand on his breast as he spoke.
"Oh! well, please yourself, Jim," Max observed, seeing that the confidence would really satisfy the boy, who had evidently never known a friend in all his life, save his wandering father.
"And, Jim," put in Bandy-legs, seriously, "just you make up your mind that we'll never whisper a word of what you tell us to a living soul, eh, Max?"
"That's a sure thing," replied the other.
Jim fell back a little, so that he might be closer to these two splendid friends, who were already assuming the rôle of heroes in his eyes.
"'Tain't so bad, I reckons," he started in to say. "Yuh see, dad, he never done as they sez. Lots o' times he tells me as how sum other man he tries tuh rob that ole farmer. But they ketched him in our camp, an' totes him tuh the farmhouse. I heerd 'em say as how they means tuh kerry dad tuh town an' hev him shut up, when mawnin' kims along."
The boy drew a long breath. His eyes flashed with the memory of the wrongs that had been heaped upon his father; and Max chuckled with glee to see that after all he had more or less "spunk" in his small body.
"I take it from what you say, Jim, that you weren't made a prisoner at the same time they nabbed your father?" he remarked.
"Naw," replied the boy, "I chanct tuh be away from camp jest then, yuh see. Wen I kim back I seed three big men a-hustlin' dad along, an' him a-saying all' ther time he never done nawthin'."
"Of course you followed them?" said Max.