“Isn’t this luck!” whispered Hal.
“Say!” sighed Ned, overcome by his feelings.
Having surveyed, they beat a crafty retreat. So very cautious were they, that on their way home they scarce even dared discuss the find. It seemed too good to be true, and might vanish.
That evening, when at supper Mr. Miller remarked that an extraordinary crop of melons was in view, Ned was so startled that he dropped his knife. Yet his father’s words had no reference at all to Squire Belton!
As the days passed Ned and Hal made regular visits to the melon-patch. When speaking of the patch, so careful were they that they always said “it,” and by “it” each knew what the other meant. Thirty yards was the nearest that they ventured to “it,” since this was the space separating “it” from the ravine. They kept their secret to themselves, deeming that they could manage the raid—and the melons—without help. Ned wanted to let Tom in, but Hal thought that two was enough, and inasmuch as the patch was his by reason of discovery, Ned could only yield.
Week by week the melons swelled. The exact time for making closer acquaintance with them was hard to decide upon. The raid must not be too early, and on the other hand there was danger that it might be too late. Finally, Ned and Hal could no longer stand it. Melons were beginning to appear in market. The moment for action had come.
The boys chose a Tuesday night as the date for the attack. Ned invited Hal over to spend the evening at his house, and to sleep there. As this was nothing out of the way, it drew no suspicion.
They retired early up-stairs, the better to talk. They simply had to talk, or they would have exploded. About ten o’clock, when the household was quiet and abed, they climbed out of the window of Ned’s room, scampered softly in their stockinged feet across the sloping roof of the little side porch, lowered themselves to the ground, hurriedly put on their shoes, scurried for the back fence, vaulted it, and at last were safely in the protecting alley.