TREASURE HUNTING.
Strange to say, Toby, usually the last to gather his wits together, was on
this occasion the first to give expression to his overwrought feelings.
"Gee! that's a s-s-screamer you're g-g-giving us, Max," he burst out with.
"But what makes you say it's a boy, Max; why not a man, when you're about
it?" asked the skeptical Steve.
Max held up something he clutched in his hand.
"That's a boy's cap, reckon you'll all admit," he asserted, quietly.
"It sure looks like it," admitted Bandy-legs, bending forward to examine
the article in question.
"And a mighty tattered cap in the bargain, I should say," remarked Owen,
who was something of a bookworm, filled with a theoretical knowledge
concerning subjects that, as a rule, his cousin Max had personal
acquaintance with.
"All right," Max went on, "I found this here, right where Toby saw the
staring eyes. But that isn't all, fellows. Look down where I point, and
tell me what you see."
Bandy-legs and Toby could not make anything out of the queer-looking marks
they saw revealed by the light of the torch.
With the others it was different.
"Somebody's been kneeling here, for a fact," declared Steve.
"Here's where his knees pressed in the earth; and you can see how his toes
dug holes yonder," Owen remarked, pointing.
"Just so," Max went on; "and when you notice how short the distance between
knees and toes is, you'll agree with me it was a boy."
"That's all right, Max," spoke up Steve; "but why would he be a scared
boy--why didn't the chump walk right into camp and join us?"
"Perhaps this boy has some reason to be afraid. Perhaps he got an idea in
his head that we'd come up here to hunt for him! And when he saw Toby
looking straight at him, he fell into a regular panic right away."
"You m-mean he s-s-s-s----" and finding that the word was going to prove
too much for him Toby quickly puckered up his lips, gave a little whistle,
and wound up by speaking the objectionable word as plainly as anyone could
have done--"skedaddled?"
"Yes, ran away as fast as he could," Max continued. "I'm sure of that from
the tracks he made, and only wonder how he could have done the same
without you hearing him."
"Where are his tracks?" asked Steve.
"Yes, show 'em to us, Max," added Bandy-legs.
"Look here, and here, and here, then. You can see by the size that these
footprints were made by a boy. And, yes, his shoes are just about falling
to pieces in the bargain. He's got one tied with a piece of twine, wrapped
several times around."
"Gosh! however do you know that, Max?" asked the astonished Bandy-legs.
"Why, once you learn how to read signs, it's as easy as falling off a log,"
laughed Max, as he proceeded to show them just how he figured things out.
"That's t-t-too bad," muttered Toby.
"Just why?" inquired Max.
"If he'd only had the n-n-nerve to step up, and m-m-make our acquaintance,
there's that bully pair of m-m-moccasins, you know, I'd like to have
g-g-given him. Always pinch my t-t-toes dreadful. Just f-f-fit him, I
bet," declared Toby, who had a very warm heart.
"Well, it's too late now, because the fellow's far enough away by now,"
commented Max.
"Perhaps we might happen to run across him some other time?" suggested
Steve, consolingly.
"Like as not," the other remarked, "and now, let's return to the camp, and
think of what we'll have for supper. I'm as hungry as a bear, for one."
"Same here," declared Bandy-legs enthusiastically; for, though short of
stature, he was known to have full stowage capacity when it came to
disposing of appetizing food.
There was soon more or less of a bustle around the camp. Each one seemed
willing to help, and from the orderly way in which they went about their
several tasks it was evident that these campers had reduced things to
something of a system.
And while the supper is in process of preparation it might be as well for
us to learn a little more about these five lively lads.
They belonged in the town of Carson, which lay some fifteen miles to the
south of the camp.
Always warm friends and chums, they had lately organized themselves into
a little club, which they called the Outing Boys of Carson. The main
object of this association was camping out, and having a good time
generally. But Max and Owen had by degrees conceived ideas far in advance
of these early plans.
It was on account of these ambitious projects that they had now come up
into this wilderness where the boys of Carson were never known to
penetrate before.
Max had a good home, and his cousin Owen, who was an orphan, lived
with him.
Steve was the only son of the leading grocer in Carson, which fact more
than once aroused the keen jealousy of Toby Jucklin, who, like Bandy-legs,
never seemed able to get enough to eat.
Toby himself lived with an uncle, and perhaps this gentleman did not fully
appreciate the enormous appetite of a growing boy, and failed to satisfy
his needs. Besides, Nathan Jucklin was known all over that section as
close-fisted, and capable of "squeezing a penny."
Then there was Bandy-legs. Of course he had a name by which he was known
among his teachers at school and at home. It was Clarence; but to every
boy in town he went by the significant name of Bandy-legs.
They had come up the narrow and tortuous Evergreen River in a couple of old
boats, capable of carrying all the camp material; though so leaky that
frequent baling out was necessary in order to keep things dry.
Sometimes they had been able to use the oars to advantage, and cover a mile
or two in pretty good fashion.
Then, again, they were compelled to use poles in order to push the boats;
or, else going ashore, drag them by means of long ropes, for the rapids
were swift.
It had taken them from early morning to nearly dusk to cover these
fifteen-odd miles; but now that the camp was established, the tent up, the
fire crackling, and supper being prepared, they forgot their tired backs
and muscles.
"Hey, Max!" called out Bandy-legs, turning around from where he was
attending to the bubbling coffee.
"What is it?" asked the other, who had managed to arrange a temporary rude
table, a slab of wood having been brought along for the purpose. "You
forgot to tell us about it, don't you know?" the other went on. "Somehow,
all the excitement about that silly kid in the bushes knocked it clean out
of my head."
"It did now, f-f-for a fact," spoke up Toby. "So t-t-tell us what the
p-p-p-p"--whistle--"prospects are, won't you?"
Max and his cousin exchanged a quick look, after which the former placed a
finger on his lips.
"Wait a little, Toby," he said, cautiously. "When we gather around the
festive board, and get our heads close together, I've got some bully good
news to tell the bunch of you."
"H-h-hear that, will you, boys?" remarked Toby, in more or less excitement.
"Say no more now, please. How about that coffee?" Max continued.
"S-s-she's cooked to a turn, and I h-h-hope the rest of the g-g-grub is
ready, too."
"All right here," announced Bandy-legs, seizing the frying pan, which was
filled with potatoes, seasoned with a few onions, and hurrying over to
where the low table had been arranged.
Inside of five minutes they were busily engaged disposing of the
savory mess.
Five hungry lads can make away with considerable food, given the chance;
but all due allowance had been made for even the astonishing appetites of
Toby and Bandy-legs, when making preparations for the feast.
Once the edge was taken off their appetites, and the boys remembered the
promise made by Max.
"Now tell us what luck you had, Max," Steve asked, as he broke open a fresh
paper package of crackers, and appropriated a generous portion of cheese.
"Y-y-yes, that's the t-t-ticket!" exclaimed Toby.
"I did promise, didn't I?" Max started out to say; "and it's time I kept my
word. You know the idea wasn't mine at all, but came from Owen here, who
had been reading up on the subject. We wanted to discover some way of
earning a nice little sum of money this summer, in order to carry out
certain plans we've got in our minds; and among all the schemes hatched up,
his one struck us as the smartest."
"Besides, it gave us just the jolliest chance to come up here and pitch
camp," asserted Steve.
"Something we'd been talking of doing for ever so long, fellows,"
Bandy-legs put in.
"All of which is true," Max went on to say. "Well, what was this bright
little idea Owen sprung on us! Nothing more nor less than a
treasure-hunting expedition. Only, instead of trying to unearth the gold
and jewels some Captain Kidd of these Northern woods has hidden away, we
expect to find something in the way of gems that no mortal eye has ever
looked on up to now."
Apparently these words of Max gave the others quite a thrill, for they
exchanged looks, and their faces betrayed evidence of intense interest.
"Owen had taken a great deal of stock in this new industry of finding
pearls in mussels, or fresh-water clams," Max went on. "He managed to learn
that long ago our river had been pretty well stocked with these shellfish,
though the town people had eaten them up clean. But Owen believed, and I
agreed with him, that some miles up-stream the chances were we might find a
good lot of mussels, big fellows that had never been disturbed except by
some hungry 'coon or fox."
"And so we just made up our minds to start out on what seemed to be an
innocent camping trip," broke in Steve, chuckling. "That would give us all
the chance we wanted to see whether there was anything in this
pearl-fishing business along fresh-water streams."
"And we're here, all right, ready for work," remarked Bandy-legs. "Would
you mind passing me that frying pan, Owen? It's a shame to waste such a lot
of tasty grub."
"Huh! n-n-no danger," grunted Toby, enviously.
"We had to hurry for all we were worth to get up here before dark," Steve
remarked; "for Owen said the best place would be at the junction of the two
little streams 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."