The girls turned down the lane back of the main street and bumped over the ruts until they thought they had arrived at a spot opposite McNutt's own melon patch.
"What's wrong ?" asked the agent, as they suddenly stopped with a jerk.
"This ought to be Brayley's," said Beth; "but it's so dark I'm not certain just where we are." McNutt thrust his head out and peered into the blackness.
"Drive along a little," he whispered.
The girl obeyed.
"Stop--stop!" said he, a moment later.

"I think that's them contwisted fifteen-cent mellings--over there!" They all got out and Beth tied the horse to the fence.

Peggy climbed over and at once whispered: "Come on! It's them, all right." Through the drifting clouds there was just enough light to enable them to perceive the dark forms of the melons lying side by side upon their vines.

The agent took out his big clasp knife and recklessly slashed one of them open.
"Green's grass!" he grumbled, and slashed another.
Patsy giggled, and the others felt a sudden irresistible impulse to join her.
"Keep still!" cautioned McNutt.

"Wouldn't ol' Dan be jest ravin' ef he knew this?
Say--here's a ripe one.