"I think there's a fair chance that way, Steve; and so let's look around. Each choose a certain territory to cover; but don't wander too far away; and remember our old signal for assembling in a hurry. Whoever finds the creel give the Indian whoop twice. Once for trouble, and help wanted. Now scatter!"
They had done this sort of thing many times in days gone by, and were pretty well trained for service. Following the idea Max suggested, they headed in four different points of the compass, though the pond being behind cut out half the circle, and shortened their labors considerably.
Barely three minutes had gone by than a whoop rang out, coming from the quarter where Steve had gone. The others raised their heads eagerly and listened, for if no second call followed it would mean that the one who signalled needed assistance in a hurry. But almost immediately there came a second cry, proving that the missing basket had been found.
A minute later and they were clustered there, examining the trout creel. It had been opened, for part of its contents had vanished; but when Toby began to discover fine frogs' "saddles" scattered on the ground, he started to collect them in great haste.
"Seemed like the monk must have been disgusted when he opened the basket, after climbing a tree here, and found that he didn't fancy the smell of what it held," Steve gave as his opinion.
"And I guess Toby is likely to get about all his frog supplies back again," Max went on to say, in a satisfied way; "so that none of us have any kick coming."
"That old sneak fools himself more than a few times, don't he?" Bandy-legs remarked, as if beginning to see the comical side of the affair. "First there was the half ham which he couldn't take a fancy to after he stole it, and now here he's gone and cribbed a lot of frogs' legs that he throws away. It must be just a habit with him to steal. He can't help it when the temptation rises. I'd call him a kleptomaniac, wouldn't you, Max?"
"Yes," Toby hastened to remark, out of his turn, "that's what he must be, but you'll have to excuse m-m-me from s-s-sayin' the same, because it'd sure take m-m-me a year of Sundays puckerin' up my l-l-lips to try."
"Now, if you had a chance to capture a monkey, Toby, it wouldn't be near so silly as hoping to bag a great big lion, or a strong tiger that could bat us all over with one stroke of his paw," Steve advised the boy who yearned to be the proud possessor of a menagerie of his own.
"Well, p'raps I may b-b-before we leave here," Toby calmly went on to say, "that is, if the rest of you g-g-give-me a h-h-helping hand."