There was a, blunt directness in Ralph's questions that seemed to disconcert the man who had expected to meet a rather shy, immature lad—-certainly not one who bore himself with an air of calm self-possession and who wasted no words. He gave another low laugh that ended in a chuckle, and replied briefly:
"My name's Bill—-Bill Terrill—-perhaps you've heard tell o' me?
I'm Old Man Walsh's nevvy, your friend Tom's Cousin."
"I've heard of you," said Ralph, drily.
"Who told you, then?"
"Jack Durham—-another cousin of yours."
"Oh! You don't mean the kid that joined that 'ere Boy Scout crowd over at Pi'neer Camp last summer, after—-after———"
"After you attacked the old man and him in the woods, one day. Yes, he's the one. He told me."
"You an' him pals?"
"Not exactly; he's much younger than I."
"How old are you?"