“Well, look here,” he exclaimed. The two looked inside but all they could see was some bits of colored string. Carefully Jim took hold of one and gave a little pull.
“You’d better not do that. The string may be around something real small and you’ll lose it,” Bob suggested, but before the words were out of his mouth, the entire contents was in Jim’s hand. “What do you make of that?”
“Maybe the kid has been trying to be a Boy Scout. It’s nothing but colored strings full of knots, but it’s a queer sort of string at that. I never saw anything like it—”
“You’d better put it back,” Bob urged. “It isn’t any good, but if the kid was having fun with it, we don’t want to be goops—” Both boys turned quickly as they heard the sound of oars being plied swiftly as if someone were rowing in a great hurry. “He’s coming back.” Hastily Jim stuffed the odd looking string back into its container and snapped the lid shut.
“Wish I hadn’t been such an inquisitive boob,” he muttered. By that time the boy and his uncle had almost reached the spot, and both of them seemed to be anxious about something.
“Did you drop a little box here?” Bob called as the boy leaned on the oars to let the boat come ashore. Corso’s face lighted with relief, as if the thing they had lost were of great value.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
“Well, that’s good. We just picked it up.” Jim stepped hastily forward and restored the find to its owners, but to his surprise, they both leaped out.
“Much sirs, we thank you.” The man took Jim’s hand, and to that pure young American’s utter embarrassment, stooped and kissed it. Hastily he drew it back.
“Aw, that’s all right,” he said in confusion.