ack of the main street and bumped over the
ruts until they thought they had arrived at a spot opposite McNutt's own
melon patch.

"What's wrong?" asked the agent, as they suddenly stopped with a jerk.

"This ought to be Brayley's," said Beth; "but it's so dark I'm not
certain just where we are."

McNutt thrust his head out and peered into the blackness.

"Drive along a little," he whispered.

The girl obeyed.

"Stop--stop!" said he, a moment later. "I think that's them contwisted
fifteen-cent mellings--over there!"

They all got out and Beth tied the horse to the fence. Peggy climbed
over and at once whispered:

"Come on! It's them, all right."

Through the drifting clouds there was just enough light to enable them
to perceive the dark forms of the melons lying side by side upon their
vines. The agent took out his big clasp knife and recklessly slashed one
of them open.

"Green's grass!" he grumbled, and slashed another.

Patsy giggled, and the others felt a sudden irresistible impulse to join
her.

"Keep still!" cautioned McNutt. "Wouldn't ol' Dan be jest ravin' ef he
knew this? Say--here's a ripe one. Hev a slice."

They all felt for the slices he offered and ate the fruit without being
able to see it. But it really tasted delicious.

As the girls feasted they heard a crunching sound and inquired in low
voices what it was.

McNutt was stumping over the patch and plumping his wooden foot into
every melon he could find, smashing them wantonly against the ground.
The discovery filled them with horror. They had thought inducing the
agent to rob his own patch of a few melons, while under the delusion
that they belonged to his enemy Brayley, a bit of harmless fun; but here
was the vindictive fellow actually destroying his own property by the
wholesale.

"Oh, don't! Please don't, Mr. McNutt!" pleaded Patsy, in frightened
accents.

"Yes, I will," declared the agent, stubbornly. "I'll git even with Dan
Brayley fer once in my life, ef I never do another thing, by gum!"

"But it's wrong--it's wicked!" protested Beth.

"Can't help it; this is my chance, an' I'll make them bum fifteen-cent
mellings look like a penny a piece afore I gits done with 'em."

"Never mind, girls," whispered Louise. "It's the law of retribution.
Poor Peggy will be sorry for this tomorrow."

The man had not the faintest suspicion where he was. He knew his own
melon patch well enough, having worked in it at times all the summer;