The best swimming hole was below the boundary of the Plunkit land, anyway, but this path across the pasture was a short-cut.
"If we see that Applethwaite Plunkit and his dog, what are we going to do?" asked Fred, as they trotted along the sidehill path, white with road dust from head to foot.
"Nothing. But if he sees us, that's another matter," chuckled Bobby.
"All right. You're the smart one. But what will we do?"
"Run, if he isn't too near," said Bobby, practically.
"And suppose he is too near?"
"Guess we'll have to run just the same," returned Bobby, thoughtfully. "He can lick either of us, Fred. And with the dog he can lick us both at once. That dog is real savage. He's made him so, Ap Plunkit has."
"I bet we could pitch on Ap and fix him," said the combative Fred.
"Now, you just keep out of trouble if you can, Fred Martin," advised Bobby, cautiously. "You know—if you get into a fight, you'll catch it when you get home. Your father will be sure to hear of it."
"Well! what am I going to do if they pitch on me?" demanded Fred.