By this time Mr. Hodge was coming upstairs with the lard in a thin wooden dish, a piece of paper being over the top.  Bob stood near the counter piling the scale weights up in a regular pyramid.

“Here, let them alone,” growled the storekeeper.  “Fust thing you know they’ll fall an’ mebby crack.”

“I wouldn’t have that happen,” said Bob earnestly, but with a lurking smile on his lips.  “How much is the lard, Mr. Hodge?”

“Fourteen cents.  It’s gone up.”

“Something else will be going down soon,” murmured Bob.

He paid over the money, took the lard and started out.  As soon as he reached the front stoop of the store he gave a hasty look around.  He saw Ted dodging behind a tree across the street.  Suddenly Bob opened his mouth and let out a yell like that which an Indian might have given when on the warpath.  It was a shriek as if some one had been hurt.  Then he jumped off the porch and hid underneath it, one end being open.

An instant later Mr. Hodge, thinking some accident had happened, rushed to the front door of his store.  But just as he reached it he went down in a heap, tripped by the string Bob had stretched across the opening.

The storekeeper was more surprised than hurt, for he was quite stout and his fat protected him.  As he got up, muttering vengeance on whatever had upset him, he went to the door to look out.  There was not a person in sight.

“It must have been that pesky Bob Henderson!” he exclaimed.  “He’s always yellin’ an’ shoutin’.”

He turned back into the store, rubbing his shins.  As he did so he uttered an exclamation of dismay.  And well he might, for the spigot of the molasses barrel was wide open, and the sticky brown fluid was running all over the floor.

CHAPTER II

ANOTHER PRANK

“Drat that boy!” cried Mr. Hodge.  “I’ll make him suffer fer this.  I’ll have him arrested fer malicious mischief, an’ I’ll sue his father.  I’ll see if I can’t put a stop to sech nonsense.”

He did not waste time in words, however, but hastened to shut the spigot of the molasses barrel to stop the wasteful flow.  However, two gallons or more had run all over, the floor, making a sticky pool.

Meanwhile Bob had crawled out from under the stoop and had crossed the street to Join Ted.

“Did you see anything?” he asked.

“Did I?” asked Ted.  “Well, I should say I did.  It was great.  How’d ye think of it?”

“Did I do anything?” asked Bob innocently.  “I thought Bill Hodge stubbed his toe and fell.  Probably he slipped in some molasses.”

“Did you pull the spigot open?”

“Me?  No, I didn’t, but maybe the string did.  I guess I’ve got to hurry home with this lard.  Mom wants to make some pies.”

Bob got home much sooner than his mother expected he would.  He gave her the lard, and then went out under the apple tree where he had left the paper snappers.