In Camp on the Big Sunflower | Page 8

whole w-w-world."
Steve was sitting there with his elbows on the table, both hands holding
his head, and his eyes glued on the pearl that lay between them.
"That would be a tough deal," he muttered. "I'd give a heap to have a
handful of those pretty little things. My! just to think what luck to strike
one the first pop."
"Besides," Owen went on, lowering his voice, as he seemed to cast a
quick suspicious glance to the right and to the left, "that isn't all,
fellows."
His manner somehow thrilled Toby and Bandy-legs. Even Steve raised
his head to stare at Owen, though it required an effort for him to break
the strange spell the milk-white pearl seemed to have cast about him.
"Tell us what you mean, Owen," begged the broad-shouldered young

Samson, with the bowed legs.
"Yes, p-p-please do, b-because you s-s-see, we're all worked up now."
"Then listen, fellows," said Owen, impressively. "It's only fair, as Max
and myself have decided, that you should know all we've found out."
"That's right," muttered Steve. "As well as what we suspect," Owen
continued, in the same mysterious way.
Steve was so deeply impressed with the seriousness of Owen's manner,
that, perhaps unconsciously, he allowed his hand to steal over to where
the double-barreled shotgun leaned against the trees, and rest
confidingly upon the same.
Max had occasion to remember afterwards just how much Steve was
worked up.
"Well, what was it?" asked Bandy-legs, after Owen had allowed some
seconds to elapse.
"For the last half mile, when we were pushing up toward the forks of
the river," Owen went on, "we noticed that the empty shells along
under the banks seemed to grow more numerous."
"Yes, and all of us felt tickled to see it," broke in Steve, "because it was
a good sign. It told us the mussels were here, all right."
"And it also told us," Owen continued, "that there were a lot of little
fur-bearing animals living along the stream, with a mighty strong taste
for fresh-water clams."
"As what?" asked Bandy-legs.
"Oh! mink, otter, muskrats, raccoons, and perhaps fisher. All these used
to be plentiful through these parts in years gone by. I've heard of men
trapping them, but of late it's been lost sight of, so I reckon they've
increased at a great rate."

"Well, I don't see anything about that to bother us much," argued Steve.
"I reckon there'll be plenty for all of us. What the minks and musquash
get won't keep us from making our try, will it?"
"No," said Owen. "But it wasn't that I was speaking about. The fact is,
we made a disagreeable discovery a little while ago, when we went out
to investigate--ran across a heap of mussel shells piled up by human
agency, and not through that of fur-bearing animals in search of a
meal."
The three others who heard this startling fact for the first time stared at
Owen, as if hardly able to grasp the full dimensions of the calamity that
threatened their pet project.
CHAPTER IV.
THE UNKNOWN SHELL GATHERERS.
Steve was, as usual, the first to recover from the sudden shock.
"Whew! that sounds like a tough deal, fellows!" he remarked, with a
grimace. "Here we are, thinking we've got the field all to ourselves; and
expecting to spring a big surprise on the sleepy folks of Carson when
we come marching home with a pocketful of valuable fresh-water
pearls, that would give the Ranger Boys all the money they need to
carry out their pet plans. And squash! almost as quick as you can wink,
it's all knocked into a cocked hat. Yes, a tough deal, boys, and perhaps
no more of these little beauties for us."
He picked up the lone pearl again, as if unable to wholly resist its
attractions.
"Huh! and instead of having the field all to ourselves, it looks like we
might be poaching on the preserves of some other fellow."
Bandy-legs gave voice to his bitter disappointment after this fashion.
"T-t-too bad," muttered Toby, who seemed to feel that upon an

occasion like this every member of the club ought to allow himself to
be heard.
"Say," broke out Steve, suddenly, "perhaps it's that little prowler Toby
sighted spying on the camp?"
"I wonder!" exclaimed Bandy-legs, his face lighting up with new
interest.
"Perhaps the boy may have some connection with the gathering of the
shells," Owen went on, "but it was a man's big footprint we saw
alongside the pile of empties when we struck a match."
"What do you think about it, Max?" suddenly asked Steve, turning
around to stare at the one he addressed.
Max had apparently seemed quite content to let his cousin do the
talking, for he had remained quiet during