Instantly the three boys were on their knees searching through the
brown pine needles.

"There it is!" declared Harry, picking up a queer-shaped stone.
"That's real Indian--I know. Father has some, but this is the first I
was ever lucky enough to find."

The boys examined the stone. There were queer marks on it, but they
were so worn down it was impossible to tell what they might mean.

"What tribe camped here?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," answered Hal. "I just heard an old farmer, out
Berkley way, talking about the Indians. You see, we only come down
here in the summer time. Then we keep so close to the ocean we don't
do much exploring "

The boys were so interested now they did not notice how dark it was
getting. Neither did they notice the turns they were making in the deep
woodlands. Now and then a new stone would attract their attention.
They would kick it over, pick it up, and if it were of queer shape it
would be pocketed for further inspection.

"Say," said Hal, suddenly, "doesn't it look like night?" and at that
he ran to a clear spot between the trees, where he might see the sky.

"Sure as you live it is night!" he called back to the others. "We
better pick the trail back to our canoe, or we may have to become real
Indians and camp out here in spite of our appetites."