Squire Belton’s “place,” at the outskirts of the town, was a standing challenge, for half the year, at least, to the Beaufort youth. Of course, the squire was only prudent in guarding his fruit as he did. He grew fruit to sell, not to donate to greedy boys. But they regarded him as a cantankerous, mean old codger, and perfectly lawful prey.
It was very tantalizing to trudge along the dusty road, on a day of late August, and to gaze helplessly at those trees laden with their delicious, beckoning apples! However, the squire’s big white house commanded this orchard, and its windows were ever staring, and the squire himself or some of his family never failed to catch the least wavering from the straight path of honesty—in this case the path outside the orchard fence.
In addition, the barbed wires of the fence were close together, and as tight as fiddle-strings—ugly things to scale when the squire’s vigorous yellow dog was coming full tilt.
There were grapes, too; and these were on the slope, facing the house, and in plain sight from the porch and sitting-room.
Orchard and vineyard stayed proof against nearly all plots and attacks. But now, thanks to Hal’s “short cut,” for two Beauforters, anyway, a new field of action was opened.
Hurrah for the melon-patch!
His mind filled with the bright prospect, Ned gobbled a hasty dinner, and made a bee-line for Hal’s house.
Together they took their way to the limits of town, and cunningly made a circuit of the Belton premises until safe from those prying, alert windows and the ever watchful yellow dog. Then Hal led his companion into the ravine that pierced the squire’s lands. Amidst a jungle of undergrowth they worked a course, and when Hal gave the word warily mounted the flank.
“There!” said Hal, when they had gained the crest.
In front of them lay a small, secluded area of low vines, with every few feet a smooth, green oval showing itself—peaceful promise of a fine feast to come.