at them longingly. They made him think of the orchards at home in his
own state, and a touch of coolness in the air sharpened his appetite for
them all the more.

"If you want 'em so badly, Dick," said Warner, "why don't you climb the
tree and get 'em? There's plenty for you and also for Pennington and me."

"I see. You're as anxious for apples as I am, and you wish me to gather
'em for you by making a strong appeal to my own desires. It's your
clever New England way."

"We're forbidden to take anything from the people, but it won't hurt
to keep a few apples from rotting on the ground. If you won't get 'em
Pennington will."

"I understand you, George. You're trying to play Frank against me,
while you keep yourself safe. You'll go far. Never mind. I'll gather
apples for us all."

He leaped up, caught the lowest bough, swung himself lightly into the
fork, and then climbing a little higher, reached for the reddest and
ripest apples, which he flung down in a bountiful supply.

"Now, gluttons," he said, "satiate yourselves, but save a lot for me."

Then he went up as far as the boughs would sustain him and took a look
over the country. Apple trees do not grow very tall, but Dick's tree
stood on the highest point in the orchard, and he had a fine view,
a view that was in truth the most remarkable the North American continent
had yet afforded.