"You've not discovered gold on your quarter section, perchance?"
"Guess again—it's better than that."
"I'll give it up. But leave me a look at your hands."
"Yes," said Franklin, "I'll give you a look, and one more guess." He held up a small bag before Battersleigh's face.
"It's not potatoes, Ned?" said Battersleigh in an awed tone of voice.
Franklin laughed.
"No; better than that," he said.
"Ned," said Battersleigh, "do ye mind if I have a bit smell of that bag?"
"Certainly," said Franklin, "you may have a smell, if you'll promise to keep your hands off."
Battersleigh approached his face to the bag and snuffed at it once, twice, thrice, as though his senses needed confirmation. He straightened up and looked Franklin in the face.
"Ned," said he, his voice sinking almost to a whisper, "it's—it's apples!"