Then had come the packing up and the start.
On and on sped the auto, the boys talking of many matters, and speculating as to what Professor Snodgrass would say when he saw them.
“Here, you take the wheel a while, Ned, I’m tired,” requested Jerry, after about an hour in the front seat. The car was stopped while the transfer was being made, and when they were about ready to proceed again Bob called:
“Hey! Wait a minute. I see some apples over in that field. Wait ’till I get some.”
“Eating again!” cried Jerry, with a gesture of mock despair, for Bob had been nibbling at something ever since they started.
Without waiting for assent the stout lad slipped over the fence and he had his hands and pockets full of the apples before his chums had ceased laughing long enough to object.
“They look dandy!” exulted Bob, as he climbed back over the rails. “Have some, fellows; I guess I’m some little Willie when it comes to gathering apples; eh?”
“I guess you are, son, but it’ll cost ye suthin’!” and to Bob’s astonishment a tall, lanky farmer arose from where he had been concealed in the tall grass near the fence, and laid a detaining hand on the stout lad’s shoulder.
“Hey? What’s the matter? Let me go!” spluttered Bob, so surprised that he dropped part of the fruit. Jerry and Ned, in the car, were laughing at his plight.
“Oh, I’ll let ye go all right,” said the farmer, with a grin, “but you’ve got to settle fust! I find this is the best way to collect,” he went on. “Wait until they have the goods and then nab ’em. There ain’t no way gittin’ away from that there!”