plug of tobacco contentedly and poking the shreds into the bowl of his pipe.
"It's difficult to realize that we're going to quit," he said. "Do you know, I've gotten so used to the place that I believe I shall hate to go."
He had struck a match and was putting it near the tobacco when his eyes fell on a barrel twenty yards away. A puzzled frown flitted across his face. The match remained in midair, and the flame died.
"I don't believe Chester ever took the trouble to go through that last lot of shell he fetched from the reef," he said. "I'll go and see."
Joan walked over with him. The barrel was half full of oysters which were in perfect condition for working on.
"I don't like to be lazy," said the man. "You sit to windward and you'll never know they're here. I ought to get at least ten dollars' worth of seeds out of this lot."
Lying on the ground near was the tin can which they had always used for baling water over the shell as they searched, and Keith began to work, jesting with Joan as he did so. He had thrown away the contents of scores of oysters when his fingers encountered something hard and round. Anticipating that it was a pebble, he was preparing to flick it away with the blade of his knife after examining it, when he uttered a cry of surprise.
