"I am not afraid, but I don't see we are doing exactly right."
"But it will be no end of a lark."
"Then I'm all with you."
"Run beneath the shadow of the hedge, so that we are not seen," said Leslie.
"All right; go a-head."
Away the boys ran, Leslie informing Lynch of his plan as they went, which seemed to meet with Lynch's entire approbation. The outskirts of the town were speedily reached, when, stopping before the first cottage was gained, Leslie pulled two long pieces of round hollow tin from his pocket,—which are known by the name of pea-shooters,—and a handful of peas.
Giving one of the pea-shooters and some of the peas to Lynch, Leslie whispered, "Do you take the right hand side, and I the left; mind and aim straight at the face of the clocks: don't laugh, or the peas will get into your throat and choke you."
"We had better begin a little higher up, so that the road may be clear for a run," said Lynch.
Very silently the boys each approached a cottage, and inserting their pea-shooter in the keyhole, fired a whole mouthful of peas at the glass face of the old-fashioned eight-day clock, with which each cottage was furnished.