"Ain't we nearly there?" grunted Bandy-legs, who had proven clumsy, so that
several times, catching a foot in some concealed creeper, he had almost
fallen flat.

"Jest a leetle bit furder, mistah," replied Jim, eagerly, as though he
feared that these new-found friends might grow suspicious or weary, and
desert him in his time of great need.

Five minutes later and they stepped into a little open space. The hill rose
abruptly before them. Max realized that they must be close to the camp of
the shell gatherers, even before he saw this opening, for he could detect
an odor in the air far from delightful, and which he knew must come from a
collection of hundreds and hundreds of shells, many of them possibly
recently opened.

Jim's father had found a natural cave under a great shelf of rock that
jutted out from the base of the hill.

Here the two were safe from the violent summer storms; and with a couple of
worn blankets, a few cooking utensils, and a scant allowance of food, they
were able to carry on the business of gathering the fine shells, with their
mother-of-pearl lining, so necessary in the button trade.

Several piles of shells caught the eyes of the two boys as they approached
the strange camp.

Max, however, looking farther, discovered a form upon the ground, partly
covered by a blanket.

A dreadful suspicion came over him that the man might have died while Jim