"Yas, suh."
"When you go back to your dad tell him I said he needn't be afraid to show himself in Carson, or any other town around these diggings; because the tramp who robbed old Griffin's place was caught, and all the stuff found on him!"
"That's right," interrupted Bandy-legs, anxious to have a part in the developments; "and I saw the Chief of Police bring him into town, too. He was sure a tough-looking case. Your dad looks like a gentleman beside that hobo thief."
"Old Griffin is a just man," Max went on. "I'm sure he's felt sorry for treating your father as roughly as he did, without having any evidence against him. And if you two showed up at his place to-day chances are he'd take you both in and give you jobs."
"But," said Bandy-legs, "there ain't no need of that. I'm bent on seeing
Tom Jones get that vacancy on the local paper."
"Is Tom Jones your father's real name?" asked Max. "You needn't be afraid to say, Jim, because nobody is going to harm him now."
"It's Thomas Archer. He kin talk jest as good as you kin, wen he wants tuh to do it. But the fellers we tramps with done lawf at him, so he larns tuh talk like they does. But yuh done makes me happy, tell yuh, mistah. Glad now I waited on the trail foh yuh."
"You belong down South, don't you, Jim?" asked Max.
"Reckon Nawth Car'liny was the place I was borned into this world, suh, but
I don't jest see how yuh guessed that," the boy answered.
"Never mind. Suppose you trot along with us to our camp now. I'd like to send back a few things, like coffee and bacon, for your dad and you."