Part 22 (2/2)

complained Bluff.

”Oh, don't worry. I'll be back in half an hour, at the most. Besides, if you want to, you can put on these heavy shoes of mine, drop over the side, and wade to the bar. It's warm in the water, and delightful,”

remarked Jerry, slipping over into the small boat, with his rifle in his hand.

”Well, there's no depending on you. Half an hour, did you say? More than likely that means about dark, if there's any temptation to hunt ash.o.r.e.

So I suppose I'll just have to duck, and do the great wading act. For I count it next door to a crime to be so near delicious oysters and not have them at least once a day.”

Bluff was as good as his word. He put on the heavy shoes, and some old garments. Then, getting a bucket, he crept overboard, found that the water only came to his waist, and, having marked out his course, was speedily on a reef, digging at the largest oysters he could find.

”Boys, they're just the finest ever! Some whoppers out here, too. No 'c.o.o.n oyster about that chap,” and he held up one that was half again as large as his hand.

Now and then, as he worked, they could see him stop to try an extra fat-looking fellow. When this had been repeated a dozen times, Will reproached him.

”Where do we come in? Do we get the culls?” he demanded.

”Why, hang it, my bucket's as full now as it will hold! I'm coming across to dump 'em on the deck, and get another helping. Why, I could keep at this business all day. It's just fascinating, that's what!” called Bluff.

”I see your finish, all right, my fine boy. You'll never go back to Centerville again. Either you'll turn into an oyster, after devouring so many tons of 'em, or else hire out to the owner of a sharpie engaged in the business,” laughed Frank.

He had to admit, though, when Bluff opened one of the big fellows and allowed him a chance to taste its flavor, that they were the best he had ever run across.

”Barring none,” declared Bluff vigorously, holding the oyster knife aloft.

”Barring none,” affirmed Frank, also erecting his fingers, as though willing to go on record.

Then, of course, Will had to try them, also, and also frankly p.r.o.nounced them delicious.

”Let me have that knife, Bluff, and I'll be opening some while you're off after another supply. The hatchet will be all you want to loosen any tight ones. Don't look at me that way. I can be trusted not to eat more than one in five. And my appet.i.te for oysters isn't one-third what yours is,” laughed Frank.

Bluff seemed to think he could stand that, for he yielded up the opener.

”Don't you let that scoffer, Will, have another one. I'll bring back another bucketful in about ten minutes. There's millions of 'em. They set me wild to think of such riches going to waste. I'll dream about 'em, fellows.”

Grumbling thus, he stalked through the water to the reef, and set to work again.

Frank had watched Jerry push in to sh.o.r.e and vanish among the tangled undergrowth. Some little time had pa.s.sed since, but there was no sign of his returning.

”I guess it's lucky Bluff didn't take his word for it, and wait,” he remarked.

”Yes,” replied Will, who was watching the fat bivalves drop into the kettle as his chum deftly manipulated the opening knife, ”I rather think we'd have missed connections with this savory mess, all right, and all of us would have been sorry.”

”I wonder if he found anybody in that old shack?” mused Frank, looking again.

”Hardly likely. What would you say, Joe? Ever been ash.o.r.e here?”

The boy shook his head in the negative.

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