AT DEAD OF NIGHT.
So the night found them.
Toby and Bandy-legs had managed to recover from their keen disappointment
over the poor result of their afternoon's work.
"Reckon we must have struck a bad place," the latter remarked, as they all
lounged around the cheery fire after supper had been finished.
"That's a f-f-fact," commented Toby, nodding his head in a wise fashion;
"I've read that these p-p-pearls happen in a q-q-queer way. F-f-find 'em
all in a h-h-heap, and then nothin' doin' for w-w-weeks."
"Then our chums must have struck the jolliest place on the whole river,"
Bandy-legs observed.
"H-h-hope they m-m-marked it, then," Toby went on.
"How about it, Max, Steve?" demanded the other pearl hunter of the
afternoon.
"Sure we did," grunted Steve, who somehow seemed strangely quiet for him, a
fact that gave Max considerable uneasiness, knowing what he did.
"And I remember telling you where we did most of our tramping in the
water," he observed.
Toby grinned rather foolishly.
"G-g-guess that's so," he admitted.
"Yes," spoke up Bandy-legs, "but you see we expected that you'd cleaned out
that place pretty well; and as we wanted to pick up a good load we went
higher up."
"That's where you made the mistake, then," remarked Owen. "Perhaps Max and
Steve located something like a pocket. If I take a turn in the morning I
believe I'll go over all the ground they did and pick up a few shells."
"I'll go along to show you if you say so," Steve suggested.
"How about it, Max?" inquired Owen.
"Call it settled at that," came the ready response.
They talked and compared notes, and laid plans for the glorious future, as
the cheery fire crackled and the hour grew later.
Max had shaped the little scheme he had in mind.
The pearls were supposed to be safely lodged in a tiny packet which he had
placed in the haversack in the presence of all the others.
This, however, was all a delusion and a snare, for in pursuance of his
plans Max had secretly managed to quietly slip the two really valuable
gems into his pocket, where he afterwards made them secure.
All this was done with a definite object in view, for he more than half
expected that before another dawn came the haversack would be visited
again.
By degrees the boys fell away, since Max had plainly announced that he
would take the first watch.
No one seemed disposed to dispute the honor with him, because they were all
very sleepy.
First Toby crawled under the tent, and by his heavy breathing they knew he
was dead to the world.
Next Steve followed suit, and then Bandy-legs.
"Wake me early, mother dear, because to-morrow will be the first of May,"
the latter sang out, as he vanished.
This left only Max and Owen.
Now, the weight of his secret was weighing so heavily upon Max that he had
made up his mind to take Owen into his confidence should a good chance
arise.
It seemed to be on hand.
Accordingly, after binding his cousin to secrecy, Max began to relate the
strange thing he had seen on the preceding night.
Of course Owen was properly shocked.
He, too, had the utmost confidence in Steve Dowdy, and found great
difficulty in believing that the other could ever descend to such a low
state as making a thief out of himself.
"The plaguy pearls must have fairly turned his head, Max," he declared,
with almost savage earnestness.
"Just what I was beginning to believe," the other admitted, with a shake
of his head.
"But what can we do about it, Max?"
"I'm going to watch," replied the other.
"To-night, you mean?"
"Yes. The fever is still in Steve's veins. He doesn't seem to act like
himself. And, Owen, d'ye know, I've read somewhere that some people are
strangely affected by certain kinds of gems. They seem bewitched when
looking at or handling the same."
"That's it, Max. Pearls must have some sort of terrible fascination for
poor Steve."
"He admitted as much himself, and you all heard him say so," declared Max.
"All right. Count me in," Owen went on.
"What d'ye mean by saying that, cousin?" asked Max.
"Only that you won't have to watch alone, Max."
"Just as you say, my boy. Glad to have your company. But we'd better be
making preparations to keep our eyes on that bag," Max went on.
"Why, I can see it from here, so long as the fire keeps blazing," Owen
asserted.
"I purposely hung it in that place, and drew back the tent flap so I could
keep an eye on the bag all the time. So Owen, let's settle down here, and
make ourselves as comfy as we can."
"All we have to do is to drop a little wood on the fire once in a while,
eh, Max?"
"That's right; and while we watch we can talk in whispers if we feel like
it, Owen."
"Still, it would be better to keep quiet, I suppose," suggested the cousin
of Max.
"Of course. He might hear us, and lie low," replied the one who was
engineering things.
"But you've fixed it so that while we lie here on our blankets, no one
would be apt to notice us from the tent. You had a purpose in doing that,
I expect?" questioned Owen.
"I thought he might take a look around first to see where I was; and not
discovering me in sight would believe I had gone to sleep on my post,"
Max went on.
"This is a nightmare of a time," grumbled Owen.
"That's right," echoed the other, promptly. "Seems to me I must be
dreaming when I find myself suspecting Steve of such a nasty thing. But
wait up and see, Owen. If nothing happens I'll be surprised, likewise
mighty well pleased."
They accordingly lapsed into silence.
Minutes glided by. To both the boys they seemed to be shod with lead,
so slowly did the time pass.
When the fire burned low, as it did on several occasions, Max would crawl
out, manage to toss an armful of wood upon the red embers, and immediately
seek his hiding place again.
One, two hours had gone, and so far nothing out of the common had come to
pass.
Owen found himself getting somewhat sleepy, and in various ways he fought
against the drowsy sensation.
"That's an owl, I reckon, ain't it, Max?" he whispered when certain queer
sounds floated to their ears out of the depths of the forest.
"Of course," replied the other, in the same cautious tone, which could not
have been heard ten feet away.
"And those are tree frogs croaking close by?" continued Owen, who knew all
about these things from reading; while his cousin did the same through
practical experience.
"They're calling for more rain!" chuckled Max; "but I hope the old fellow
up above, who turns on the sprinkler when he takes a notion, don't pay any
attention, because rain in camp is generally a nasty time."
Once more the two boys lapsed into silence.
Perhaps another half hour had passed when Owen, whose eyes were getting
very heavy, so that he found himself nodding, felt something touch his arm.
He started violently, possibly under the impression that some snake or wild
animal from the woods had reached them unawares.
"H-s-sh!"
Why, to be sure, it was Max who hissed this warning in his ear. And, of
course, it must be his cousin's hand that was laid on his own arm.
"Look!"
The one word proved sufficient to make Owen remember what they were lying
there for. Accordingly he craned his neck so as to see the interior of the
tent.
The fire was burning fairly well, and as Max had fastened the canvas flaps
unusually far back, in order to admit plenty of air, as he had said at the
time, it was easy to see.
Owen felt another thrill, immediately succeeded by a chilly sensation.
There was a movement within the tent, as if some person might be advancing
toward the spot where the haversack hung in plain sight.
The firelight fell plainly upon a face, and Owen had no difficulty in
recognizing--Steve!
Almost holding their breath the two boys watched to see what their strange
chum did.
They saw him deliberately open the haversack and plunge his hand inside.
"Oh! look! he's got the little package, Max," whispered the horrified Owen.
Max pinched his arm.
"Keep still," he made out to say in the other's ear.
He feared that Owen's disturbed voice might have reached the ears of the
prowler; but there was no sign to indicate such a thing.
Indeed, Steve went about his task with a deliberation that puzzled both the
watchers.
"There! he's gone back to his blanket again," muttered Owen, unable longer
to keep still; "and Max, did you see where he put that little packet which
he believes holds all our prizes!"
"Yes," replied the other, "inside that old extra coffee pot we fetched
along to use in case anything happened to the one we have on the fire three
times a day."
"That's the funniest thing I ever heard of, sure," continued Owen. "He's
crazy, that's what. Who'd ever think of looking in that bum old coffee pot
for anything worth while, tell me that, will you?"
"I can't. I'm all up in the air myself," admitted Max.
"Still, we saw him do it, didn't we! It wasn't a dope dream, was it, Max!"
"I'm going to prove it pretty soon, Owen."
"As how?" demanded the other.
"By getting that old coffee pot out here, and looking it over, that's how,"
replied the other.
"Bully idea!" exclaimed Owen, quickly. "Say, looky here, perhaps now you
really expect to find our other lost pearl in there?"
"Wouldn't surprise me one little bit," chuckled Max.
"Oh! can't you sneak in now and crib the coffee pot?" begged Owen.
"Give him ten minutes to settle down," came the reply.
At the end of what seemed the longest ten minutes he had ever known, Owen
saw his agile cousin begin to move toward the opening of the tent.
On the way Max picked up a long, stout stick that had a slight turn at the
end. "He's going to fish for the coffee pot," whispered Owen, in more or
less delight; for he did so enjoy seeing Max undertake anything that
required brains.
The fishing met with speedy reward, for once the crook at the end of the
pole had been inserted into the handle of the coffee pot, and the rest was
easy.
So Max came back to where he had left his comrade, bearing in his hands the
old cooking utensil that thus far had not been needed, and might, if the
other only held out, only prove a form of insurance against possible
disaster.
Deliberately Max opened the coffee pot and thrust his hand inside.
"Here's a package," he said, drawing something out.
"No need to open that," observed Owen, quickly; "because we know it only
holds the three poor pearls found in the catch brought in by the last
squad. Feel deeper, Max. Strike anything?"
For reply the other drew his hand out, nor did it come into view empty.
"The little cardboard box you put the first prize in," gasped Owen.
"Please hurry and open it up, Max."
His chum was no less eager to see what the contents of the box would prove
to be.
No sooner had he removed the lid than the enraptured eyes of the two boys
fell upon the lost pearl! Yes, there it rested on its pink cotton bed,
looking even more beautiful in Owen's eyes than either of the two later
prizes.
After staring at it for some time the boys allowed their eyes to exchange
a look. Max was pale and distressed, while his cousin, on the other hand,
seemed to be excited, as though indignation and even anger had surged up
within him.