“Glad we saw it before the waves carried it off,” Bob declared. He was congratulating himself that it was his step-brother who received the homage, but his delight was short-lived, for the boy took his hand and performed as did his uncle.
“Much thanks, Bob—Jim,” he said chokily.
“Aw, it isn’t anything to make a fuss over,” Bob answered quickly, and his face flushed to the roots of his hair. In his heart he was glad that none of the cowpunchers from Cap Rock were there to witness such a display of gratitude.
“Much thanks,” the uncle said again, and the two backed away.
“Don’t mention it,” Jim said hastily. “We have to go, or we’ll be late for lunch. We would have given it to you this afternoon if you hadn’t come for it.” They both bowed low, then sprang into the boat and rowed off, but now their faces were wreathed in smiles and as the distance grew between them and the shore, they began a sort of chant which sounded like the wind sighing through the cedars.
“Come along, let’s get a move on. I don’t want to be kissed any more. Gosh, they must be French,” Bob exclaimed, and the two started to run as if the Old Harry were after them. When they came in sight of the house, they stopped. “I’m not going to tell anyone about that box.”
“Mum’s the word. If we tell about finding it, we’ll have to tell about giving it back. Perhaps it’s some sort of heirloom, but it sure is a queer sort of thing to make such a fuss over.”
“I’ll say, maybe now that we gave it back, Corso and the boy will be friendly and we can ask them where they came from—”
“Maybe we can, but we’re not going to be little interrogation points unless they give us the information without our asking for it. Dad says a gentleman recognizes another gentleman and they treat each other accordingly—”
“Well, that’s O. K. with me,” Bob nodded. “But I thought we might get an answer to one of the mysteries.”