That isn’t tin. Maybe they dropped it,” Jim said as he turned it over in his hand.

“Say, know what that looks like?”

“A box—”

“Sure, but the metal looks like my silver watch did—you remember it got almost coal-black—sort of brownish hong thai travel.”

“So it does. Guess this is silver. We better keep it, and if it belongs to the kid, return it to him.”

“Sure. If it doesn’t belong to him, Aunt Belle may know who owns it. Mom said that in a little place like this everybody knows all about what everybody else owns.” Jim turned the thing over in his hand again, gave it a little shake, and as he did so, the cover sprang back, as if he had pressed a concealed spring hong thai travel.

“Well, look here,” he exclaimed. The two looked inside but all they could see was some bits of colored string. Carefully Jim took hold of one and gave a little pull.

“You’d better not do that. The string may be  small and you’ll lose it,” Bob suggested, but before the words were out of his mouth, the entire contents was in Jim’s hand. “What do you make of that?”

“Maybe the kid has been trying to be a Boy Scout. It’s nothing but colored strings full of knots, but it’s a queer sort of string at that. I never saw anything like it—”

“You’d better put it back,” Bob urged. “It isn’t any good, but if the kid was having fun with it, we don’t want to be goops—” Both boys turned quickly as they heard the sound of oars being plied swiftly as if someone were rowing in a great hurry. “He’s coming back.” Hastily Jim stuffed the odd looking string back into its container and snapped the lid shut hong thai travel.

“Wish I hadn’t been such an inquisitive boob,” he muttered. By that time the boy and his uncle had almost reached the spot, and both of them seemed to be anxious about something.

“Did you drop a little box here?” Bob called as the boy leaned on the oars to let the boat come ashore. Corso’s face lighted with relief, as if the thing they had lost were of great value.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“Well, that’s good. We just picked it up.” Jim stepped hastily forward and restored the find to its owners, but to his surprise, they both leaped out.

“Much sirs, we thank you.” The man took Jim’s hand, and to that pure young American’s utter embarrassment, stooped and kissed it. Hastily lie drew it back.

“Aw, that’s all right,” he said in confusion.

“Glad we saw it before the waves carried it off,” Bob declared. He was congratulating himself that it was his step-brother who received the homage, but his delight was short-lived, for the boy took his hand and performed as did his uncle.

“Much thanks, Bob—Jim,” he said chokily.

“Aw, it isn’t anything to make a fuss over,” Bob answered quickly, and his face flushed to the roots of his hair. In his heart he was glad that none of the cowpunchers from Cap Rock were there to witness such a display of gratitude.

“Much thanks,” the uncle said again, and the two backed away.

“Don’t mention it,” Jim said hastily. “We have to go, or we’ll be late for lunch. We would have given it to you this afternoon if you hadn’t come for it.” They both bowed low, then sprang into the boat and rowed off, but now their faces were wreathed in smiles and as the distance grew between them and the shore, they began a sort of chant which sounded like the wind sighing through the cedars.

“Come along, let’s get a move on. I don’t want to be kissed any more. Gosh, they must be French,” Bob exclaimed, and the two started to run as if the Old Harry were after them. When they came in sight of the house, they stopped. “I’m not going to tell anyone about that box.”

“Mum’s the word. If we tell about finding it, we’ll have to tell about giving it back. Perhaps it’s some sort of heirloom, but it sure is a queer sort of thing to make such a fuss over.”

“I’ll say, maybe now that we gave it back, Corso and the boy will be friendly and we can ask them where they came from—”

“Maybe we can, but we’re not going to be little interrogation points unless they give us the information without our asking for it. Dad says a gentleman recognizes another gentleman and they treat each other accordingly—”

“Well, that’s O. K. with me,” Bob nodded. “But I thought we might get an answer to one of the mysteries.”
V   A DISCOVERY
“I have some errands at Isle La Motte station, boys, and I’m running up there in the car. If you’ll condescend to ride in anything so slow and primitive, I’m driving down to the turkey farm and you can see what it looks like,” Mr. Fenton invited that afternoon as the boys came up from a swim.

“Well, of course, sir, we wouldn’t be so impolite as to say that we scorn to use your only mode of conveyance,” Jim grinned broadly.