"You can, if you want to," said Max; "as for me, I'm going to believe in
the story he tells."

But he did not throw away the stout stick which at the time he chanced to
be carrying.

The boy had turned around. He wanted to see what they meant to do, and a
new dread seemed to be gripping him.

But when Max once again started forward, Bandy-legs, as if a little
ashamed of his suspicion, kept him company.

Thus, following the uncouth little fellow closely, they began to pass
through a very dense section of forest.

Max considered that since they were going to all this trouble in order to
do a good deed, it might be as well to learn a few things.

Accordingly he quickened his pace, so that he drew up alongside Jim.

"What's your dad's name, Jim?" he asked.

The boy seemed to hesitate, as though even in his young mind he doubted
the propriety of giving away family secrets.

"Calls hisself Tom Jones, mistah," he finally replied; but Max readily
understood that the chances were the man had another name, which he did not
like to own, as possibly it was connected with a prison sentence, or some
crime.