Max could hardly believe his eyes.
It seemed so remarkable for Steve to be examining the haversack at this midnight hour.
Perhaps the other had been dreaming, and as the pearl was much in his mind he may have gotten up to ascertain whether the little package still reposed safely in the pouch?
Max came to this conclusion as he lay there and watched.
Steve seemed to give a satisfied grunt presently. Then he turned away, stepped gingerly over the forms of Bandy-legs and Toby, bent down for a few seconds, as if fumbling with his clothes, and still muttering to himself, finally crawled under his own blanket.
Max was chuckling as he dropped back on his rude pillow made of leaves that had been crammed into a flour sack.
"Guess Steve is deeper in this pearl business than the rest of us," he muttered, "since he has to climb out of a warm blanket just to make sure nobody's got away with our first prize. Well, he's welcome to stand guard. Me to get some more sleep."
So little impression did the circumstance make upon Max's mind that in less than five minutes he had drifted away once more to the borders of slumberland.
In the morning it was Owen who awakened the balance of the campers.
"Here, suppose you fellows show a leg, and take a dip in the creek," he announced, poking his head into the tent.