"So am I sorry, Mrs. Fox."
"I didn't think you would do it. Why didn't you come up to the house an' ask for them apples?"
The boy looked puzzled, for the simple reason that he was puzzled. "I don't understand you. What apples?"
"The ones you tried to steal."
"I didn't try to steal any apples, Mrs. Fox. What makes you think that?"
"Didn't you try to git in our orchard when Joel fired on you?" cried Mrs. Fox.
"Why, I haven't been anywhere near your orchard!"
"No?" Mrs. Fox looked bewildered. "Then—then how did you get hurt?" she faltered.
"Why, Mr. Wicks and I were cleaning out pa's old shotgun when it went off accidentally, and I got a couple of the shot in my forearm," answered Harry Smith promptly.
The answer took away Mrs. Fox's breath. "Drat them boys—I knowed it!" she muttered, and drove away without another word. Harry Smith was much puzzled, but letters which soon after passed between him and Tom cleared up the mystery.
But the boys never heard of how Joel Fox fared when his wife got home. The lady arrived "as
