Max himself really meant to have a try in the marsh for woodcock, as they were known to frequent the low ground when feeding.
So the three boys went off, each with his empty bag, which he hoped to bring back partly filled with mussels, some of which might develop prizes when finally opened up.
Bandy-legs pottered around the fire for a while, but Max could see how unnaturally he acted.
"That boy's got something on his mind, it is dollars to doughnuts," he kept saying to himself, as he watched the nervous movements of the new cook.
This uncertainty caused him to postpone his departure in search of the only game available at that time of year. He thought he would hasten developments, and bring Bandy-legs to the point.
"Something bothering you a bit, old fellow?" he remarked, presently.
The other looked around uneasily.
"Sure they won't come back on us yet a while, eh, Max?" he asked, eagerly.
"No danger of that," assured Max. "You can say what you want, and nobody will hear you."
"Oh! Max, it's dreadful," began Bandy-legs.