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"How about it, Max?" asked Steve. "Well, your idea sounds all right, Steve, but unfortunately it has one weak place." "As what, now?" asked Bandy-legs. "Why, there hasn't been a breath of wind all the morning," Max went on, with a chuckle. "I remember wishing it would come up, for the sun was sure something fierce when we were wading about, looking for clams."

"And, say, what's this he's gone and brought back with him, fellers?" cried Bandy-legs, staring in surprise at the two men, with their gray uniforms and brass buttons of authority. The four boys now came creeping forth. And when he saw that all of them were fully dressed, Max knew that sleep could hardly have visited the camp during his long absence.

He heard Max fire frequently. "Run across game, all right," chuckled Bandy-legs as he worked on industriously. Eating in all its phases appealed to Bandy-legs; and the very thought of game for supper tickled his fancy. When Max did show up later on he was carrying a very nice little bundle of the long-billed woodcock with their attractive breasts.

"Now, this seems to have been a pretty hefty sort of fellow, because the marks are big. It is a common shoe, too, just like the men make and wear in the prisons and public institutions." Bandy-legs fairly gasped for breath at hearing this remark.

Huh! just like Slippery Steve to get out of the hard work we've going to have cutting enough brush for making our shanty shelter tonight; seeing that we didn't fetch our bully old tent along this trip. He's a nice one, I should say." "N-n-never you m-m-mind about Steve, Bandy-legs.

Max stood ready to carry out his threat should the men attempt to bombard the camp with stones, and for some little time he kept Bandy-legs standing there, knife in hand, ready to sever the rope that kept Bose from his liberty. There was no need, it turned out.

Well, we're looking for some such chap; but up to now we haven't got on his track." "With Trapper Jim in the North Woods." "But hold on, Bandy-legs," expostulated Steve, "you forget that we did hear about a boy that answered that description, though nobody seemed to know his name. He was sometimes seen in the company of a half-drunken old guide named Shanks somewhere around Mount Tom district.

First the bundles were taken out, and they all observed that it was fortunate they had decided at the last minute to let Bandy-legs have one of the tents instead of the foodstuff he had been given in the beginning. "Give me a hand here, fellows," remarked Max, "and we'll turn her over to let the water get out faster. I can see right now where the trouble lies, and it's right down in the bottom.

This was not all. Having Steve in his company for a couple of hours would give Max a good chance to study the other closely. Perhaps, too, if Steve were really playing a practical joke on his comrades he might, without meaning to do so, let a hint drop that would serve to betray the object he had in view. "Here, don't forget the bags we fetched along to carry the mussels in," said Bandy-legs.

"Well, I had an idea I'd give it back to the poor feller if ever we ran across him," Bandy-legs continued, for he was really a warm-hearted boy, as his chums well knew; "and when we came here to this new camp I remember as plain as anything sticking that same old cap on the end of this bush that grows to a point. Then just now I noticed it was gone."