He was growing intensely curious about the seething fire beneath the outer crust of quietness and security.

If some great plot were hatching, if some great upheaval were at hand, why might not he scent out something beforehand?
Why might not he discover what was baffling the sagacity of others?
He had no wish to be a spy or an informer; he had too much generous sympathy with the oppressed for that.

But he was intensely curious about it all, and he felt as though his youth and obscurity would be his best protection if he chose to make some investigations on his own account.
The old eager thirst for knowledge was coming upon him.

The old love of adventure, which had run him into many perils already, had not been quenched by his recent experiences.

Success had crowned his labours in the forest; why should that success desert him now?
And then the thought came to him that he might by chance discover something which might be of use to his own kinsmen.