came far behind Roy.

He sat now pondering Roy's words, and kicking his heels against the
wall, whilst his eyes roved over the road on the outside of the garden
and away to a dark pine wood opposite.

"Here's one coming then," he said, suddenly; "now you'll have to use
it."

"Who? What? Where?"

"It's a man; a tramp, a traveller or a highwayman, and he may be all the
lot together! It's an opportunity, isn't it?"

Roy looked down the narrow lane outside the wall, and saw the figure of
a man approaching. His face lit up with eager resolve.

"He's a stranger, Dudley; he doesn't belong to the village; we'll ask
him who he is."

"Hulloo, you fellow," shouted Dudley in his shrill boyish treble; "where
do you come from? You don't belong to this part."

The man looked up at the boys curiously.

"And who may ye be, a-wall climbin' and a breakin' over in folks'
gardens to steal their fruit?"

"Don't you cheek us," said Roy, throwing his head up, and putting on his
most autocratic air; "this is our garden and our wall, and the road