Gradually the boys worked up-stream, crossing and recrossing as they searched.
"We're covering the ground all right," asserted Steve, as his laugh announced another prize; "and believe me, we clean 'em out as we go. How many have you got in your bag, Max?"
"About nine or ten, I reckon, Steve."
"I've got fourteen, and some busters among 'em. I'll be pretty badly disappointed if one out of the lot don't turn out a good milk-white pearl," the other called out.
"Perhaps it'd be better not to mention that word so loud again, Steve," cautioned the other.
"Are you saying that just on general principles like, Max, or is there a reason?" and Steve, as he made this demand, splashed closer to his chum.
"Oh, well!" Max went on, "you know they say that sometimes even the trees and rocks have ears. And we don't know who might be hiding around, watching us right now."
"Did you see or hear anything to make you think that way?" asked the nervous Steve.
"Can't say I did," replied Max; "but I thought it good policy to sling my gun over my back by the strap, and not leave it ashore. Sorry now I brought it along; but we don't want it stolen like our pearl was."
"That's right, we don't," asserted Steve, without the slightest hesitation. "If these shell gatherers have got the nerve to sneak into our tent and make way with our first pearl, I reckon they wouldn't hold back at taking a good old scatter-gun that chanced to be lying around loose."