CHAPTER X.
AT DEAD OF NIGHT.
So the night found them.
Toby and Bandy-legs had managed to recover from their keen disappointment over the poor result of their afternoon's work.
"Reckon we must have struck a bad place," the latter remarked, as they all lounged around the cheery fire after supper had been finished.
"That's a f-f-fact," commented Toby, nodding his head in a wise fashion; "I've read that these p-p-pearls happen in a q-q-queer way. F-f-find 'em all in a h-h-heap, and then nothin' doin' for w-w-weeks."
"Then our chums must have struck the jolliest place on the whole river,"
Bandy-legs observed.
"H-h-hope they m-m-marked it, then," Toby went on.
"How about it, Max, Steve?" demanded the other pearl hunter of the afternoon.
"Sure we did," grunted Steve, who somehow seemed strangely quiet for him, a fact that gave Max considerable uneasiness, knowing what he did.
"And I remember telling you where we did most of our tramping in the water," he observed.
Toby grinned rather foolishly.
"G-g-guess that's so," he admitted.
"Yes," spoke up Bandy-legs, "but you see we expected that you'd cleaned out that place pretty well; and as we wanted to pick up a good load we went higher up."
"That's where you made the mistake, then," remarked Owen. "Perhaps Max and Steve located something like a pocket. If I take a turn in the morning I believe I'll go over all the ground they did and pick up a few shells."
"I'll go along to show you if you say so," Steve suggested.
"How about it, Max?" inquired Owen.
"Call it settled at that," came the ready response.
They talked and compared notes, and laid plans for the glorious future, as the cheery fire crackled and the hour grew later.
Max had shaped the little scheme he had in mind.
The pearls were supposed to be safely lodged in a tiny packet which he had placed in the haversack in the presence of all the others.
This, however, was all a delusion and a snare, for in pursuance of his plans Max had secretly managed to quietly slip the two really valuable gems into his pocket, where he afterwards made them secure.
All this was done with a definite object in view, for he more than half expected that before another dawn came the haversack would be visited again.
By degrees the boys fell away, since Max had plainly announced that he would take the first watch.
No one seemed disposed to dispute the honor with him, because they were all very sleepy.
First Toby crawled under the tent, and by his heavy breathing they knew he was dead to the world.
Next Steve followed suit, and then Bandy-legs.
"Wake me early, mother dear, because to-morrow will be the first of May," the latter sang out, as he vanished.
This left only Max and Owen.
Now, the weight of his secret was weighing so heavily upon Max that he had made up his mind to take Owen into his confidence should a good chance arise.
It seemed to be on hand.
Accordingly, after binding his cousin to secrecy, Max began to relate the strange thing he had seen on the preceding night.
Of course Owen was properly shocked.
He, too, had the utmost confidence in Steve Dowdy, and found great difficulty in believing that the other could ever descend to such a low state as making a thief out of himself.
"The plaguy pearls must have fairly turned his head, Max," he declared, with almost savage earnestness.
"Just what I was beginning to believe," the other admitted, with a shake of his head.
"But what can we do about it, Max?"
"I'm going to watch," replied the other.
"To-night, you mean?"
"Yes. The fever is still in Steve's veins. He doesn't seem to act like himself. And, Owen, d'ye know, I've read somewhere that some people are strangely affected by certain kinds of gems. They seem bewitched when looking at or handling the same."
"That's it, Max. Pearls must have some sort of terrible fascination for poor Steve."
"He admitted as much himself, and you all heard him say so," declared Max.
"All right. Count me in," Owen went on.
"What d'ye mean by saying that, cousin?" asked Max.
"Only that you won't have to watch alone, Max."
"Just as you say, my boy. Glad to have your company. But we'd better be making preparations to keep our eyes on that bag," Max went on.
"Why, I can see it from here, so long as the fire keeps blazing," Owen asserted.
"I purposely hung it in that place, and drew back the tent flap so I could keep an eye on the bag all the time. So Owen, let's settle down here, and make ourselves as comfy as we can."
"All we have to do is to drop a little wood on the fire once in a while, eh, Max?"
"That's right; and while we watch we can talk in whispers if we feel like it, Owen."
"Still, it would be better to keep quiet, I suppose," suggested the cousin of Max.
"Of course. He might hear us, and lie low," replied the one who was engineering things.
"But you've fixed it so that while we lie here on our blankets, no one would be apt to notice us from the tent. You had a purpose in doing that, I expect?" questioned Owen.
"I thought he might take a look around first to see where I was; and not discovering me in sight would believe I had gone to sleep on my post," Max went on.
"This is a nightmare of a time," grumbled Owen.
"That's right," echoed the other, promptly. "Seems to me I must be dreaming when I find myself suspecting Steve of such a nasty thing. But wait up and see, Owen. If nothing happens I'll be surprised, likewise mighty well pleased."
They accordingly lapsed into silence.
Minutes glided by. To both the boys they seemed to be shod with lead, so slowly did the time pass.
When the fire burned low, as it did on several occasions, Max would crawl out, manage to toss an armful of wood upon the red embers, and immediately seek his hiding place again.
One, two hours had gone, and so far nothing out of the common had come to pass.
Owen found himself getting somewhat sleepy, and in various ways he fought against the drowsy sensation.
"That's an owl, I reckon, ain't it, Max?" he whispered when certain queer sounds floated to their ears out of the depths of the forest.
"Of course," replied the other, in the same cautious tone, which could not have been heard ten feet away.
"And those are tree frogs croaking close by?" continued Owen, who knew all about these things from reading; while his cousin did the same through practical experience.
"They're calling for more rain!" chuckled Max; "but I hope the old fellow up above, who turns on the sprinkler when he takes a notion, don't pay any attention, because rain in camp is generally a nasty time."
Once more the two boys lapsed into silence.
Perhaps another half hour had passed when Owen, whose eyes were getting very heavy, so that he found himself nodding, felt something touch his arm.
He started violently, possibly under the impression that some snake or wild animal from the woods had reached them unawares.
"H-s-sh!"
Why, to be sure, it was Max who hissed this warning in his ear. And, of course, it must be his cousin's hand that was laid on his own arm.
"Look!"
The one word proved sufficient to make Owen remember what they were lying there for. Accordingly he craned his neck so as to see the interior of the tent.
The fire was burning fairly well, and as Max had fastened the canvas flaps unusually far back, in order to admit plenty of air, as he had said at the time, it was easy to see.
Owen felt another thrill, immediately succeeded by a chilly sensation.
There was a movement within the tent, as if some person might be advancing toward the spot where the haversack hung in plain sight.
The firelight fell plainly upon a face, and Owen had no difficulty in recognizing—Steve!
Almost holding their breath the two boys watched to see what their strange chum did.
They saw him deliberately open the haversack and plunge his hand inside.
"Oh! look! he's got the little package, Max," whispered the horrified Owen.
Max pinched his arm.
"Keep still," he made out to say in the other's ear.
He feared that Owen's disturbed voice might have reached the ears of the prowler; but there was no sign to indicate such a thing.
Indeed, Steve went about his task with a deliberation that puzzled both the watchers.
"There! he's gone back to his blanket again," muttered Owen, unable longer to keep still; "and Max, did you see where he put that little packet which he believes holds all our prizes!"
"Yes," replied the other, "inside that old extra coffee pot we fetched along to use in case anything happened to the one we have on the fire three times a day."
"That's the funniest thing I ever heard of, sure," continued Owen. "He's crazy, that's what. Who'd ever think of looking in that bum old coffee pot for anything worth while, tell me that, will you?"
"I can't. I'm all up in the air myself," admitted Max.
"Still, we saw him do it, didn't we! It wasn't a dope dream, was it, Max!"
"I'm going to prove it pretty soon, Owen."
"As how?" demanded the other.
"By getting that old coffee pot out here, and looking it over, that's how," replied the other.
"Bully idea!" exclaimed Owen, quickly. "Say, looky here, perhaps now you really expect to find our other lost pearl in there?"
"Wouldn't surprise me one little bit," chuckled Max.
"Oh! can't you sneak in now and crib the coffee pot?" begged Owen.
"Give him ten minutes to settle down," came the reply.
At the end of what seemed the longest ten minutes he had ever known, Owen saw his agile cousin begin to move toward the opening of the tent.
On the way Max picked up a long, stout stick that had a slight turn at the end. "He's going to fish for the coffee pot," whispered Owen, in more or less delight; for he did so enjoy seeing Max undertake anything that required brains.
The fishing met with speedy reward, for once the crook at the end of the pole had been inserted into the handle of the coffee pot, and the rest was easy.
So Max came back to where he had left his comrade, bearing in his hands the old cooking utensil that thus far had not been needed, and might, if the other only held out, only prove a form of insurance against possible disaster.
Deliberately Max opened the coffee pot and thrust his hand inside.
"Here's a package," he said, drawing something out.
"No need to open that," observed Owen, quickly; "because we know it only holds the three poor pearls found in the catch brought in by the last squad. Feel deeper, Max. Strike anything?"
For reply the other drew his hand out, nor did it come into view empty.
"The little cardboard box you put the first prize in," gasped Owen.
"Please hurry and open it up, Max."
His chum was no less eager to see what the contents of the box would prove to be.
No sooner had he removed the lid than the enraptured eyes of the two boys fell upon the lost pearl! Yes, there it rested on its pink cotton bed, looking even more beautiful in Owen's eyes than either of the two later prizes.
After staring at it for some time the boys allowed their eyes to exchange a look. Max was pale and distressed, while his cousin, on the other hand, seemed to be excited, as though indignation and even anger had surged up within him.