In Camp on the Big Sunflower | Page 8

of the river," Owen went on, "we noticed that the empty shells along under the banks seemed to grow more numerous."
"Yes, and all of us felt tickled to see it," broke in Steve, "because it was a good sign. It told us the mussels were here, all right."
"And it also told us," Owen continued, "that there were a lot of little fur-bearing animals living along the stream, with a mighty strong taste for fresh-water clams."
"As what?" asked Bandy-legs.
"Oh! mink, otter, muskrats, raccoons, and perhaps fisher. All these used to be plentiful through these parts in years gone by. I've heard of men trapping them, but of late it's been lost sight of, so I reckon they've increased at a great rate."
"Well, I don't see anything about that to bother us much," argued Steve. "I reckon there'll be plenty for all of us. What the minks and musquash get won't keep us from making our try, will it?"
"No," said Owen. "But it wasn't that I was speaking about. The fact is, we made a disagreeable discovery a little while ago, when we went out to investigate--ran across a heap of mussel shells piled up by human agency, and not through that of fur-bearing animals in search of a meal."
The three others who heard this startling fact for the first time stared at Owen, as if hardly able to grasp the full dimensions of the calamity that threatened their pet project.
CHAPTER IV.
THE UNKNOWN SHELL GATHERERS.
Steve was, as usual, the first to recover from the sudden shock.
"Whew! that sounds like a tough deal, fellows!" he remarked, with a grimace. "Here we are, thinking we've got the field all to ourselves; and expecting to spring a big surprise on the sleepy folks of Carson when we come marching home with a pocketful of valuable fresh-water pearls, that would give the Ranger Boys all the money they need to carry out their pet plans. And squash! almost as quick as you can wink, it's all knocked into a cocked hat. Yes, a tough deal, boys, and perhaps no more of these little beauties for us."
He picked up the lone pearl again, as if unable to wholly resist its attractions.
"Huh! and instead of having the field all to ourselves, it looks like we might be poaching on the preserves of some other fellow."
Bandy-legs gave voice to his bitter disappointment after this fashion.
"T-t-too bad," muttered Toby, who seemed to feel that upon an occasion like this every member of the club ought to allow himself to be heard.
"Say," broke out Steve, suddenly, "perhaps it's that little prowler Toby sighted spying on the camp?"
"I wonder!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, his face lighting up with new interest.
"Perhaps the boy may have some connection with the gathering of the shells," Owen went on, "but it was a man's big footprint we saw alongside the pile of empties when we struck a match."
"What do you think about it, Max?" suddenly asked Steve, turning around to stare at the one he addressed.
Max had apparently seemed quite content to let his cousin do the talking, for he had remained quiet during this discussion.
Upon being directly appealed to, however, he was not at all backward about replying.
"I've been doing a heap of thinking since Owen and myself examined that pile of shells," he started in to say, "and if you care to hear the conclusion I've come to, all right."
"You b-b-better b-b-believe we do, Max," was Toby's immediate explosion.
"Don't hold back a thing," observed Steve; "because we're all dyed-in-the- wool chums; and what concerns one concerns all."
"Cough it up, Max. We're holding our breath, you understand, wanting to know. And none of us come from Missouri, either," Bandy-legs observed, eagerly.
Max smiled at the expressive way his comrades had of urging him on. Nor could he fail to be deeply touched by their confidence in his ability to fathom the puzzle.
"I took occasion to examine some of those empty shells by the light of other matches," he continued; "and on many of them I was surprised to find plain marks of small teeth!"
"Wow! I'm g-g-getting on to what you're going to spring on us!" exclaimed Toby, whose wits were not slow, if his speech had that affliction.
"I don't believe any of those mussels had been opened by human hands," Max went on to boldly declare. "Whoever is up here must be collecting them just for the sake of the mother of pearl. You know, I suppose, that these shells are used for making pearl buttons and such things?"
"Yes, they are worth so much a hundred pounds," remarked Owen. "The price is high enough to pay some men for collecting them when they can be found in any decent quantities."
"Then, Max, you don't think these parties are onto the pearl racket--is that it?" asked Steve.
"Honest Injun, boys, that's