Billy could not fully explain the reasons for his interest. The excuses he had made of being bored, of wishing to help if the men were in trouble, or if possible to prevent trouble if it were brewing, these were merely somewhat impudent inventions of his. For, after all, what could he do in any case?
The fact of the matter was that Billy simply had been seized by an overwhelming desire to find out what was taking place, and was more inclined than he should have been to yield to his own wishes.
Just as they had been doing the afternoon before, the men were again sitting about a smouldering camp fire, smoking and talking.
Without being observed Billy walked quietly up to them.
The next instant one of the men swung round and cursed him.
Without the least show of fear or anger the boy waited until the fellow had tired himself out. Then, instead of running away, as they plainly wished him to do, he walked a few steps nearer the group.
“I am tired; would you mind my sitting here with you a while?” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice. He seemed so friendly and so totally unafraid that the men must have been favorably impressed. In any case, as no one answered at once, he dropped to the ground between two of the roughest of the group.
Billy had already observed that the men were not of the character Peggy and Ralph suspected them of being.
One of the men now laughed and, leaning over, thrust his evil smelling pipe at the delicate boy. And Billy, who had never smoked a single whiff of anything in his life, took the pipe gravely, put it to his lips drawing in the smoke with several hard puffs. It made him feel slightly ill, yet he never flinched. When he gave it back the man appeared more friendly.
A little later Billy asked two or three simple questions and some one answered him, afterwards they went on talking as if he were not there.