"Those branches overhang this land. The apples don't belong to you any more than they do to us," said Bobby, and he thought he was quite right in saying so.
"Yah!" scoffed Ap. "He had to climb the tree-trunk to get there, and the tree's on our side of the fence."
"Didn't neither, Mr. Smartie!" cried Fred, in delight. "I jumped up and grabbed a limb, and pulled myself up. Have an apple?" and he aimed one of the hard, green ones at Ap.
"Don't you do that, Fred!" called up Bobby, in haste.
"Well, then, I'll give it to the dog," said Fred, throwing the apple to Rover.
"You come down out of that tree, and you stop pelting my dog!" commanded Applethwaite Plunkit.
"Yes—I—will!" responded Fred, biting into another apple.
"Well! I'll lick one of you, anyway!" exclaimed Ap, who had been slily stepping nearer.
And immediately he threw himself on Bobby. He caught the latter so unexpectedly that he couldn't have used the club had he wished to.
"Come on, Rove!" shrieked Ap. "Bite him, boy—bite him!"