In Camp on the Big Sunflower | Page 6

that go to make the Evergreen. And so we
didn't have any chance to make a hunt on the way up."
"But we saw lots of empty shells, you know," broke in Bandy-legs.
"Yes, looked as if muskrats, or something like that, had been living off
mussels right along," Steve admitted.
"And so, while we made camp, our two learned leaders strolled up the
river known as the Big Sunflower to see what the chances were for a
crop," Bandy-legs went on.
"Now, please make your report, Max, because, you see, we're just
burning up with anxiety to know. A whole lot depends on whether
we've come up here on a fool's errand or not. Did you find what you
expected? Are the full shells here a-plenty?"
And, smiling at the eagerness of Steve, Max drew out several large
mussels from his pockets, which he clapped upon the rude table.

"They're here, all right, boys," he said, earnestly, "but as to whether
we'll find any pearls in the same, that remains to be proven."
CHAPTER III.
WHAT OWEN KNEW.
"Well, I declare, is that the kind of mussel they've been finding pearls
in?" demanded Steve Dowdy, as he took one of the long-shaped
bivalves in his eager hands, the better to examine it.
"They agree with the description to a dot," Owen replied, confidently;
"and, to my mind, these seem particularly fat and promising."
"T-t-tell me about that, now, will you?" gasped Toby, who was also
examining a prize. "S-s-say, Max, why looky here, I've picked up these
s-sort of c-c-clams many a t-time when d-diving."
"I reckon we all have, and opened them, too, to eat," replied Max, with
a good-natured laugh; "but not being wise to the pearl racket at the time,
it never struck us that we ought to examine the shellfish closely before
swallowing."
"Bet you more'n one pearl has gone down my red lane then," grinned
Bandy-legs; "because, you see, I always used to be mighty fond of
fresh or pickled mussels. Say, perhaps I'm a walking jewelry shop right
now, fellers. Mebbe I'm carrying around a whole pearl outfit. Wow! it
makes me feel uneasy-like."
"D-d-don't you worry any, my b-b-boy," broke in Toby; "no danger of
anybody t-t-trying to k-k-kidnap you, even if your pouch was lined
with p-p-pearls."
"That's wise of you to say such kind things, Toby! I'll remember it,
too," said the other, reproachfully.
"But, see here," remarked Steve, "what's to hinder us from breaking
open these mussels right now, and finding out if they've got anything

worth saving sewed up inside?"
"Be sure and keep the meat, then, fellows," broke out the boy with the
crooked legs. "Two apiece all around means ten, and that ought to
make a nice little dish of stewed mussels."
"Yes, j-j-just so, for t-two," asserted Toby.
Each boy thereupon set eagerly to work opening the pair of shellfish
that had fallen to his share. Being unfamiliar with the methods
employed they were doubtless all more or less clumsy. One by one they
succeeded in accomplishing the task, and immediately set to work
examining the contents for any sign of a prize.
Silence reigned for several minutes. Then Max addressed his four
chums, inquiring:
"Are you all through?"
An affirmative answer came from each one of the others in turn.
"What luck, Owen?" asked the master of ceremonies, turning upon his
cousin.
"Nothing doing here," came the response.
"How about you, Bandy-legs?" Max went on.
"All a bluff; nary a show of color," was the way the disappointed one
made answer.
"Steve?"
"Nixy, nothing from me. I've searched every particle of the blooming
old things, but pearls seem to be as scarce as hens' teeth. Perhaps these
ain't the right kind of fresh-water clams, after all."
"Yes, they are," replied Max; "and how is it with you, Toby?" and there
seemed to be something like confidence in the way he turned to the last

member of the Ranger Boys' Club, for he had not been secretly
watching Toby for nothing.
"I found only a r-r-rotten little p-p-pebble," replied Toby.
"Let me see it, then?" asked Max.
"Oh! c-c-come now, Max, you're j-just trying to string me. S-sure that
ugly little crooked thing could never be a valuable pearl?" remonstrated
Toby.
"Perhaps not, Toby, but all the same I'd like to take a look at it,"
answered Max.
"Fork over, Toby," commanded Bandy-legs, with almost too great a
vein of authority in his voice.
The stutterer looked halfway belligerent; then, as if thinking better of
his first desire for a wordy conflict, he passed the tiny object across the
table to Max.
Both he and Owen examined it by the aid of a strong magnifying glass.
"It's a pearl, all right," announced Max, finally.
"Oh! joy! joy!" exclaimed