"What do you think about it, Max?" suddenly asked Steve, turning around to stare at the one he addressed.
Max had apparently seemed quite content to let his cousin do the talking, for he had remained quiet during this discussion.
Upon being directly appealed to, however, he was not at all backward about replying.
"I've been doing a heap of thinking since Owen and myself examined that pile of shells," he started in to say, "and if you care to hear the conclusion I've come to, all right."
"You b-b-better b-b-believe we do, Max," was Toby's immediate explosion.
"Don't hold back a thing," observed Steve; "because we're all dyed-in-the-wool chums; and what concerns one concerns all."
"Cough it up, Max. We're holding our breath, you understand, wanting to know. And none of us come from Missouri, either," Bandy-legs observed, eagerly.
Max smiled at the expressive way his comrades had of urging him on. Nor could he fail to be deeply touched by their confidence in his ability to fathom the puzzle.
"I took occasion to examine some of those empty shells by the light of other matches," he continued; "and on many of them I was surprised to find plain marks of small teeth!"
"Wow! I'm g-g-getting on to what you're going to spring on us!" exclaimed
Toby, whose wits were not slow, if his speech had that affliction.