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They'd better have depended. Johnny Blossom shouted: “Olaf! Herman!” No answer, only the sea’s pounding. A big wave dashed over his legs, and the pear rocked and plunged frightfully. Yes, the apple boat. It was painted green as it had been last year; the sails were patched; the poorest apples lay in heaps on the deck, the medium sort were in bags, and the best apples were in baskets. In the midst of this tempting abundance Mrs. Lind, who was uncommonly stout, usually sat, knitting. When her husband was up in town delivering apples Mrs. Lind took care of the boat, the apples, and Nils and everything. Nils, their son, was more to look after than all the rest put together, for he was the worst scalawag to be found along the whole coast. “Throw some ashore,” suggested Johnny Blossom..