"T-t-that's so," declared Toby. "And it's up to Max to s-s-say who goes out f-f-first."
"Suppose, then, Steve and myself lead off, and make the first try," Max suggested. He had a double object in nominating Steve as his working partner on this occasion. In the first place he knew the impatient nature of the fiery lad, and that his heart was more set upon the finding of other pearls like unto the lost one than any of the others.
This was not all.
Having Steve in his company for a couple of hours would give Max a good chance to study the other closely.
Perhaps, too, if Steve were really playing a practical joke on his comrades he might, without meaning to do so, let a hint drop that would serve to betray the object he had in view.
"Here, don't forget the bags we fetched along to carry the mussels in," said Bandy-legs.
"And I h-h-hope I g-g-get a chance to make a t-t-try this afternoon," remarked Toby, not a little disappointed because he had been passed over when Max selected the one to accompany him on the first hunting expedition.
So the two boys walked off, taking with them a couple of bags. Max also thought it wise to shoulder the reliable old shotgun.
"It isn't the game season, I know," he said, as the others looked their surprise, "and about the only thing we ought to shoot right now would be woodcock. I saw a marsh where I reckon I'll find some of the long-billed mud diggers. You know they get their food by sticking their bills deep down in the mud. That's why you always look for woodcock in a wet spot or marsh. Ready, Steve? All right, we'll make another start."
About twenty minutes later the two boys had reached the bank of the little river, half a mile or so above their first camp site.