"Well, in order to make sure of the valuable pearls here, I'm putting them away in my private purse. Well, what if some notion like that has struck our comrade, and he's hiding 'em unbeknown to us, either for a trick, or to make doubly sure they don't get lost."
Owen sneered plainly, as if to express his disbelief in this far-fetched theory.
"It's just like you to try and screen a chum, old fellow," he observed; "but the idea seems too thin for me to take any stock in it. To tell the truth, I'd call it fishy. It won't wash, and you know it."
Max sighed as he closed the bag that really held only the three next to worthless pearls.
"Own up," persisted Owen; "say that you just can't believe such a thing yourself, much as you'd like to."
"Yes, it is so; there must be some other explanation that we haven't struck yet. But I believe I'm on the right trail. Don't ask me any more, Owen. To-night will see the answer, I reckon."
"Hope so," grunted the other, and from his manner it was plain to be seen that Owen did not share the sanguine spirit of his chum.
"Now let's go back and see if there's anything doing with the rest of the fresh-water clams," suggested Max.
But, although every shell was opened and carefully examined, only a couple of seed pearls were found, not worth mentioning alongside the four fine ones.
"Anyhow," said Toby, as the last mussel was passed, "it wasn't a s-s-skunk.
We g-g-got one b-b-bully old p-p-prize, didn't we, Steve?"