objection. John did not care
to attempt anything which would expose him, if discovered, to a legal
punishment. I am afraid this weighed more with him than the wrong or
injustice of his schemes.

At last it occurred to him that Mr. Frost kept a couple of pigs. To let
them out secretly at night would be annoying to Frank, as they would
probably stray quite a distance, and thus a tedious pursuit would be
made necessary. Perhaps they might never be found, in which case John
felt that he should not grieve much.

Upon this scheme John finally settled as the one promising the most
amusement to himself and annoyance to his enemy, as he chose to regard
Frank. He felt quite averse, however, to doing the work himself. In the
first place, it must be done by night, and he could not absent himself
from the house at a late hour without his father's knowledge. Again, he
knew there was a risk of being caught, and it would not sound very well
if noised abroad that the son of Squire Haynes had gone out by night and
let loose a neighbor's pigs.

He cast about in his mind for a confederate, and after awhile settled
upon a boy named Dick Bumstead.

This Dick had the reputation of being a scape-grace and a ne'er-do-well.
He was about the age of John Haynes, but had not attended school for
a couple of years, and, less from want of natural capacity than from
indolence, knew scarcely more than a boy of ten. His father was a
shoemaker, and had felt obliged to keep his son at home to assist him
in the shop. He did not prove a very efficient assistant, however, being
inclined to shirk duty whenever he could.

It was upon this boy that John Haynes fixed as most likely to help him
in his plot. On his way home from school the next afternoon, he noticed
Dick loitering along a little in advance.

"Hold on, Dick," he called out, in a friendly voice, at the same time
quickening his pace.

Dick turned in some surprise, for John Haynes had a foolish pride, which
had hitherto kept him very distant toward those whom he regarded as
standing lower than himself in the social scale.

"How are you, John?" he responded, putting up the knife with which he
had been whittling.

"All right. What are you up to nowadays?"

"Working in the shop," said Dick, shrugging his shoulders. "I wish
people didn't wear shoes, for my part. I've helped make my share.
Pegging isn't a very interesting operation."

"No," said John, with remarkable affability. "I shouldn't t