"So-long!" called out Toby, cheerfully, as he started to follow the trail left by Max and Steve on their way from the river, half a mile away.
"If we meet up with this mysterious shell gatherer, what ought we to do?" asked the second boy, halting.
"Act friendly, and pay attention to your own business, that's all. Nobody will hurt you," Max called out, as he turned into the camp.
CHAPTER VIII.
A GREAT FIND.
"When do we begin, Max?"
Steve asked this question a short time after the three left in the camp had cleaned up the tin pans used in preparing and eating the warm meal, and Owen had gone off to try and secure a mess of bass for supper.
Steve had been usually fast in his share of the work, even for him. Max had noticed this fact, and could give a good guess as to what was spurring the other on to such exertions.
"Begin what?" he asked, as if in dense ignorance.
"Why, in opening our catch, you know," Steve replied, jerking his thumb to where the little pile of mussels lay, close by the camp fire.