WHAT OWEN KNEW.

"Well, I declare, is that the kind of mussel they've been finding pearls
in?" demanded Steve Dowdy, as he took one of the long-shaped bivalves in
his eager hands, the better to examine it.

"They agree with the description to a dot," Owen replied, confidently;
"and, to my mind, these seem particularly fat and promising."

"T-t-tell me about that, now, will you?" gasped Toby, who was also
examining a prize. "S-s-say, Max, why looky here, I've picked up these
s-sort of c-c-clams many a t-time when d-diving."

"I reckon we all have, and opened them, too, to eat," replied Max, with a
good-natured laugh; "but not being wise to the pearl racket at the time,
it never struck us that we ought to examine the shellfish closely before
swallowing."

"Bet you more'n one pearl has gone down my red lane then," grinned
Bandy-legs; "because, you see, I always used to be mighty fond of fresh
or pickled mussels. Say, perhaps I'm a walking jewelry shop right now,
fellers. Mebbe I'm carrying around a whole pearl outfit. Wow! it makes me
feel uneasy-like."

"D-d-don't you worry any, my b-b-boy," broke in Toby; "no danger of
anybody t-t-trying to k-k-kidnap you, even if your pouch was lined with
p-p-pearls."

"That's wise of you to say such kind things, Toby! I'll remember it, too,"