Bob was all unconscious of what fate had in store for him.

CHAPTER V

A JOKE THAT WENT WRONG

For several days after the prank with the mouse Bob did not play any jokes.  The teacher ascribed that fact to the lecture she had given him.  Bob’s mother, who also noticed that he was much more quiet than usual, feared he was going to be sick.

“I never knew him to be so subdued,” she thought.  “I think I must give him some sulphur and molasses.  Perhaps he is getting some disease.”

She mentioned it to the captain.

“Nonsense,” said the mariner.  “He’s hatching up some trick, that’s what he’s doing.  You want to look out.”

“Oh, captain, I don’t think so!”

“Well, I do.  Now you mark my words.  It’s down on the chart that Bob is up to some mischief.  He’s hauled down his colors for a while, but that’s only to fool the enemy.  First thing you know he’ll hoist the Jolly Roger, and then there’ll be some queer doings in these waters.”

“Hoist the Jolly Roger?”

“I mean turn pirate, so to speak.  You keep your eye on that boy, Lucy.  Something’s going to break loose or I’m a Dutchman.”

Bob’s father thought his son’s subdued behavior on the few days following the captain’s arrival was due to a hint Bob had obtained, that, unless he mended his ways, he might be sent on a long voyage to work his passage.

Now the truth was that Bob was merely waiting for a good chance to play a trick.  He was not particular what sort of a trick it was so long as it created a laugh.  The consequences never gave him a thought or worry.

So, as he could think of nothing sufficiently “funny” to do, he remained quiet.  But all the while he was looking about to see if he and his boon companion, Ted Neefus, could not perpetrate some prank that would be “worth while.”

“Things are awful slow,” complained Ted one afternoon as he and Bob walked home from school.

“That’s right,” agreed Bob.  “But wait.  I’ve got a plan.”

“What is it?”

Bob looked carefully up and down the street.  Then he glanced behind him.  Next he drew Ted into some bushes that lined the thoroughfare on which they were walking.

“You know what’s going to happen Friday night, don’t you?” Bob asked.

“No; what?”

“The annual donation party for the minister.”

“Well, what of it?”

“I’m going.”

“That’s nothing.  Don’t you generally go?  So do I, though I don’t see much fun in it.  Ma makes me.  She says it saves gittin’ a meal at home, but I don’t like the stuff they have there.”

“I don’t either—­not much—­but I’m going this time and so are you.  Because, listen, something’s going to happen.”

“Honest?”

Bob nodded vigorously several times.  There was a bright twinkle in his eyes.