Ring's back yard, only pausing from their scanning of the beclouded,
dawn-hinting sky to peer through the lightening dusk toward the
clump of cedars that hid the Fulton house.

"He's not up yet, or there'd be a light showing," grumbled the
short, stocky one of the three.

"Humph--it's so late now he wouldn't be needing a light. Tod never
failed us yet, Frank, and he told me last night that he'd be right
on deck."

"We'd ought to have gone down right off, Jerry, when we saw he
wasn't here. Frank and I would have stopped off for him, only we was
so sure he'd be the first one here--especially when you two were
elected to dig the worms."

"We dug the worms last night--a lard pail half full--down back of
his cabbage patch. And while we were sitting on the porch along
comes his father--you know how absent-minded he is--and reaches down
into the bucket and says, 'Guess I'll help myself to some of your
berries, boys.'"

"Bet you that's why Tod isn't here, then."

"Why, Frank Ellery, seventh son of a seventh son? Coming so early in
the morning, your short-circuit brain shockers make us ordinary
folks dizzy. This double-action----"

"Double-action nothing, Dave Thomas! I heard Mr. Fulton tell Tod
yesterday he was to pick four quarts of blackberries and take them