"Look at Steve!"
It was Owen who muttered these three words in the ear of his cousin.
"Yes, I've been keeping an eye on him," replied the other, uneasily.
It was to be expected that those who had gone off on the morning hunt for shellfish would show more or less eagerness to get at their catch, in order to learn just what sort of luck had attended their labors.
But long before either Toby or Owen had finished eating, Steve hurried over to the pile, and squatting down, tailor fashion, began opening mussels.
Just as the rest began to leave the vicinity of the fire they heard him give a shout.
"Say, looky there at Steve—he's dancing around like a wild Injun!" cried
Bandy-legs.
"B-b-bet you he's f-f-found a jim-dandy p-p-pearl," spluttered Toby.
All of them hastened over to where their comrade was carrying on so extravagantly.
"What you got, Steve?" demanded Bandy-legs.