to plunder.

"There they are," said the chief of the young marauders, as he paused
behind a clump of quince bushes, and pointed at the coveted fruit.
"There's no discount on them, and they are worth coming after."

"Hark!" whispered Monroe. "I heard a noise."

"What was it?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid we shall be caught."

"No danger; no one can see us from the house."

"But I'm sure there's some one near. I heard something."

"Nonsense! It was only a dagger of the mind, such as Baird talks about,"
answered Shuffles, as he crawled towards the peach tree. "Come, Monroe,
be quick, and fill your pockets."

This peach tree was a choice variety, in whose cultivation the owner had
been making an elaborate experiment. Mr. Lowington had watched it and
nursed it with the most assiduous care, and now it bore about a dozen
remarkably large and beautiful peaches. They were not quite ripe enough
to be gathered, but Shuffles was confident that they would "mellow" in
his trunk as well as on the tree. The experiment of the cultivator had
been a success, and he had already prepared, with much care and labor, a
paper explanatory of the process, which he intended to read before the
Pomological Society, exhibiting the fruit as the evidence of the
practicability of his method. To Mr. Lowington, therefore, the peaches