truth, I'd call it fishy. It won't wash, and you know it."

Max sighed as he closed the bag that really held only the three next to
worthless pearls.

"Own up," persisted Owen; "say that you just can't believe such a thing
yourself, much as you'd like to."

"Yes, it is so; there must be some other explanation that we haven't
struck yet. But I believe I'm on the right trail. Don't ask me any more,
Owen. To-night will see the answer, I reckon."

"Hope so," grunted the other, and from his manner it was plain to be seen
that Owen did not share the sanguine spirit of his chum.

"Now let's go back and see if there's anything doing with the rest of the
fresh-water clams," suggested Max.

But, although every shell was opened and carefully examined, only a couple
of seed pearls were found, not worth mentioning alongside the four fine
ones.

"Anyhow," said Toby, as the last mussel was passed, "it wasn't a s-s-skunk.
We g-g-got one b-b-bully old p-p-prize, didn't we, Steve?"

"Me to look for the star brand of mussels!" declared Bandy-legs; "they're
the only kind worth toting to camp over that long trail."

It was Max and Bandy-legs who started out shortly after, bent upon new
conquests.