"All a bluff; nary a show of color," was the way the disappointed one made
answer.

"Steve?"

"Nixy, nothing from me. I've searched every particle of the blooming old
things, but pearls seem to be as scarce as hens' teeth. Perhaps these ain't
the right kind of fresh-water clams, after all."

"Yes, they are," replied Max; "and how is it with you, Toby?" and there
seemed to be something like confidence in the way he turned to the last
member of the Ranger Boys' Club, for he had not been secretly watching
Toby for nothing.

"I found only a r-r-rotten little p-p-pebble," replied Toby.

"Let me see it, then?" asked Max.

"Oh! c-c-come now, Max, you're j-just trying to string me. S-sure that ugly
little crooked thing could never be a valuable pearl?" remonstrated Toby.

"Perhaps not, Toby, but all the same I'd like to take a look at it,"
answered Max.

"Fork over, Toby," commanded Bandy-legs, with almost too great a vein of
authority in his voice.

The stutterer looked halfway belligerent; then, as if thinking better of
his first desire for a wordy conflict, he passed the tiny object across