They imagined that they could feel his hot breath through the holes in their trousers. Hit or miss, they scaled the final fence—this time a vicious barbed wire thing which took tribute in the shape of both cloth and flesh—and for dear life pattered down the welcome road.
Towser’s voice became subdued by distance. Looking over their shoulders they saw the flicker of a lantern upon the squire’s front porch. They slackened their pace to a rapid walk.
“Jiminy!” puffed Hal. “Didn’t we track it, though! The dog couldn’t catch us!”
“I’ve got a melon!” wheezed Ned.
“Bully for you!” praised Hal. “Let’s feel.”
“It’s awful rough—it must be a musk-melon,” he said, caressing it with eager fingers. “Smell it.”
Ned obeyed.
“Well, it doesn’t smell very musky,” he muttered, doubtfully.
“I guess perhaps it’s a watermelon,” declared Hal. “But either way it’s all right. What’s the matter with eating it now? Nobody’ll follow us this far.”