Then he withdrew from the scene of his recent operations.
Picking his way through the woods, after a time he heard voices, and then discovered the tent.
The new camp site had been selected by Owen, and it certainly did him credit. Max stood for a few minutes watching his chums work, and smiling with pleasure over the prospect of a full week or more in that delightful secluded spot.
Trees grew densely around the place, and until one drew very near, it was next to impossible to discover the dingy old waterproof tent that nestled in the midst of the thick undergrowth.
A clear little gurgling spring sang close by, affording all the water they would need for drinking and cooking purposes.
But, as Max stood and looked, the happy smile gradually left his face, to be succeeded by an expression of grave concern.
As he was watching the movements of Steve at the time, it could be easily understood what pressed upon his mind.
"Oh, come, this won't do at all," Max presently muttered, pressing his teeth together resolutely. "It's all going to come out right, sooner or later. Of course it looks mighty queer just now, and I can't for the life of me understand it; but I've known Steve all my life, and he's never yet been called a thief! I'll just bottle up, and hold my horses, and watch what he does, because I'm bound to find out."
So he strode into the new camp, walking all around, and quite free with his hearty compliments concerning the fine way Owen and Steve had done their part of the business.
"But looky here," burst out the impatient Steve, after a while, "we're wasting time, you know. Some of us might as well be up the river gathering a few pecks of mussels."