“Brother Todderley, if that’s true I begin to have my doubts. I don’t see how any apple tree in these parts could well be robbed if Zeb Fuller wasn’t there. It doesn’t seem to stand to reason, somehow.” “Squire Parker,” replied the miller, “there’s worse boys in these parts than Deacon Fuller’s son. He saved my life the other day, and I believe he’s got the making of a great man in him.” “There he is, now!” exclaimed Parker, pointing to a group of boys gathered at the mill-dam. “I’d like to know what mischief’s on foot this time.” “You won’t learn by asking,” said the miller, but his friend exclaimed: “Anyhow, I’m going to take a look at that crowd of boys.” As they approached, Zeb arose from the log on which he had been sitting and greeted them ceremoniously. “Good-morning, Mr. Todderley. Glad to see you, Mr. Parker; I was thinking of coming to see you.” “To see me?” “Yes,” said Zeb; “I was going to ask if you had any sweet apples to sell.” “You young rascal, what do you know about my apples?” “Your apples?” cried Zeb, with a surprised air. “Why, has anything happened to them? That was one thing I meant to speak about if I came to see you. I noticed the other day that you are careless about them. I’m afraid you’ve left ’em out over night, hanging on the trees. Have any of ’em run away?” “Run away!” “That’s it. I was afraid it would be so,” moralized Zeb. “Just like old Sol Dryer’s cows. There’s nothing sure in this world, Mr. Parker. Nothing but death and taxes.” “Brother Todderley!” exclaimed the angry old farmer, “I believe he knows all about it. I’ll go right and see his father, at once. I don’t believe a word of that cow business--not a word of it.” “Look at his eye, Brother Parker,” argued the miller, as he hurried to keep pace with his longer-legged friend. “Look at his eye. Didn’t get that fighting with your apples. No use, Parker. Look at his eye.” “Eye! Eye!” exclaimed Parker. “What do I care about his eye? What I want to know is, what went with my apples?” That was a question the fat miller could not undertake to answer, and he had hardly breath left for any other by the time they reached the mill. Before noon half of Ogleport was disputing with the other half whether Zeb Fuller could have been in old Parker’s orchard and up in Rodney at the same time, for there was more than a little common sympathy with the idea that no out-and-out mischief was probable in Zeb’s absence. He had indeed been present in the flesh at but one point at a time, but the general impression was hardly so far wrong as it might have been. “Boys,” Zeb had remarked to his faithful followers, “we did splendidly yesterday, all of us, but there’s troublesome times ahead. I understand that that city fellow’s coming back to the Academy next term, and there’ll be twice as many boarders as ever before.” “Can’t we fix ’em just as we’ve always done?” asked Hy Allen. “Either one of us can lick Val Manning,” said Bill Jones.