“Been roasting potatoes?” Tom asked, sniffing.
“Yop. I got a smutch?” said the boy, rubbing his mouth with his sleeve.
“The smutch is now on your sweater,” Brent said. “If you’ll take the sweater off, we’ll be able to see who we’re talking to.”
“How’d you know I was roasting potatoes?” the boy demanded.
“I tell by the smutch and by the smell,” said Tom, helping him off with the sweater. “That’s right, it’s warm in here.”
“I ain’t scared of cold,” said the boy.
“You smell like a bonfire,” said Tom. “Have you been roasting potatoes around here anywhere?”
“Back there in the woods—I seen a light here.”
“And did you stamp the fire out?”
“I jumped all over it.”