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 the conclusion I've reached after studying it
out. They are just collecting the empty shells, and never dreaming how one
little pearl like this would be worth perhaps a full ton of shells." And
Max took the prize from Steve, who seemed a bit reluctant to let it go.
Max had apparently made up his mind as to what would be a safe hiding place
for the little beauty.
All of them watched him wrap the pearl in a wad of pink cotton, deposit
this in a small cardboard box about two inches long by one wide, and half
as thick; which, in turn, was carefully thrust into a haversack hanging
from the center pole of the tent.
That same haversack was used as a "ditty" bag. All sorts of small articles,
likely to prove useful in camp, were deposited in its capacious depths. And
when anything was wanted, the boys usually searched in this leather pocket
before proceeding to any trouble.
"A snug nest for our first prize, eh?" Bandy-legs took occasion to remark,
as he watched how carefully Max pushed the little packet down into the
depths of this depository.
"It sure ought to be safe there," Steve declared, with a sigh as of
genuine relief.
"Nothing could happen to it, with five fellows sleeping around. And Max is
so ready to wake up that he'd even hear a cat moving," Owen remarked, with
a laugh.
"Do you expect we'll have any trouble with these pearl-shell gatherers,
Max?" Steve demanded.
"I hope not," was the ready reply. "We don't expect to interfere with their
business at all. Fact is, we'd just as lief turn over what shells we gather
to these parties to pay for trespassing on their preserves."
"But not the pearls we find--if so be we're lucky enough to run across
more?" flashed Steve.
"Surely not," Max answered, sturdily. "They don't own this country; and I'm
sure they've got no lease on the waters of the Big Sunflower. So we have
just as much right up here as they do. But we're a peaceable crowd, you
know; that's one of the leading rules in the constitution of the Ranger
Boys' Club."
"Yes," chuckled Bandy-legs, "we're set on having peace even if we have to
fight for it."
"Well," put in Toby, aggressively, "all I c-c-can s-s-say is, they'd
b-b-better think twice before t-t-trying to bother our crowd. We're only
b-boys, but we've got rights."
"Hear! hear!" broke out Bandy-legs, clapping his hands as if to encourage
the speaker.
"And we know how to s-s-stand up f-for 'em," wound up Toby, shutting his
teeth hard on the last word, and looking very determined.
"You bet we will," remarked Steve. "I'd just like to see anybody have the
nerve to try and steal that bully little gem we've captured first pop. My
stars! don't I hope we'll have the mate to it in short order."
Presently the talk drifted to other things connected with their home life
in Carson. The names of several boys were mentioned; and from the way
Bandy-legs and Toby expressed opinions of those same school fellows, it
appeared that they suspected the others of having watched their movements
of late.
"Lucky we played that fine trick," the former declared, "and started on our
up-river voyage before daybreak, while Ted Shafter, Amiel Toots, Shack
Beggs, and the rest of the gang were tucked away in their little trundle
beds fast asleep."
"S-s-say, don't you b-b-believe there was a high j-j-jinks of a time to-day
when Ted f-f-found we'd slipped away, and nobody knew where?"
"But they know we had boats," remarked Max, "because we caught one of the
crowd spying on us. That's why we had to keep our stuff under lock and
key, with old Stump Griggs to watch it."
"Yes," complained Steve, bitterly, "because a fellow as mean as Ted is
wouldn't stop a minute if he found a chance to upset our plans. Ten to one
the prowler old Stump scared away night before last was Ted himself; and I
wouldn't put it past that bad egg to burn the boathouse down, just to get
even with our crowd."
"But the Outing Boys don't scare worth a cent," declared Bandy-legs, given
to boasting a little more than any of his chums.
"Oh, well!" observed Max, cheerfully, "we expect to hide our boats in the
morning, you know, and perhaps, even if Ted and his scrappers do work up
along this way, they won't find us. If we're wading in the river searching
for mussels we're apt to hear them coming in time to get away."
"Guess you're right there, Max," said Owen.
"Sure thing," remarked Bandy-legs. "There ain't a time but what some of
Tad's crowd are snapping at each other to beat the band. Every little
while a fight is on the carpet. Takes Tad half the time keeping peace
in the family."
"Huh!" chuckled Steve. "I've seen him do it by knocking down both of the
scrappers, just as neat as you please. Ted likes that way of keeping the
peace. It gives him exercise, you see, and makes the fellow respect him
more 'n more."
The supper tins were washed, and for quite a long time the five boys sat
around the crackling fire, talking, writing in their note books, and
amusing themselves in many ways.
It was no longer dark.
A moon, slightly past the full, had crept above the horizon before they
finished supper; and while the trees prevented those in camp from getting
all the benefit of this fine sky lantern, for the most part the shadows
that lurked in the woods were banished.
Finally some of the boys began to show signs of sleepiness. Toby was
yawning about every minute, while Bandy-legs rubbed his eyes and stretched
himself, like a tired boy nearly always does.
"Guess it's about time we turned in, fellows," Max declared, himself
feeling the effect of getting up at three o'clock in the morning in order
to leave town before peep of dawn.
"That's what I say," agreed Bandy-legs. "I'm sore all over from poling that
clumsy old boat up-river. And once I hit the straw you'll never hear a peep
from me till morning."
"Move we adjourn!" sang out Toby, so suddenly that he actually neglected to
stammer.
"All in favor say 'Aye'!" Max proceeded to observe; and immediately a
chorus of approval was the signal to send them hurrying into the tent.
Ten minutes later and silence rested all over the camp on the Big
Sunflower. A hungry raccoon came prowling around, eager to pick up what
crumbs had fallen from their table. The big moon climbed higher and higher
in the clear sky, and, mounting above the tops of the trees to the east,
looked down, and smiled upon the peaceful scene.
Max was a light sleeper, just as one of his comrades had declared.
No matter how sound his slumber appeared to be, if there happened to be any
unusual movement in the camp it was sure to arouse him.
He did not know just how long he had been dead to the world at the time
something moving caused him to open his eyes.
The moon had climbed so high that he knew some hours must have passed.
Yes, there was certainly some one moving about in the tent. Max, of
course, first of all thought of Ted Shafter and his cronies, and wondered
if, after all, the rival Carson crowd could have found them out.
Next his thoughts flew to the unknown shell gatherers, and a suspicion
that perhaps one of them had invaded the camp, bent on stealing the
valuable pearl, filled his mind.
This caused Max to raise his head, and turn his eyes toward the tent pole
where the haversack containing the precious pearl hung.
Sure enough, there _was_ some one standing there, and actually
fumbling with the bag.
To the intense surprise of Max he recognized the dimly seen figure.
It was Steve.