d
presently Miss Thomas cut the cord around the big, blue bundle and gave
them their weapons. The trio left in high spirits, puffing through the
empty tubes, making imaginary shots at open windows, and blustering
loudly about past performances, as they sauntered along. Silvey halted
when the first of the grocery shops near the home corner was reached.

"Got any peas at your house, Sid?"

Sid shook his head. His family dined at a near-by hotel most of the
time, and a reserve stock of any kind of food was a rarity. John
mentioned a big jar of beans on his mother's pantry shelf.

"They're no good," said Silvey scornfully. "Get stuck in the pea shooter
and jam it all up. Got any money, Sid?"

Sid had a penny. It was the day before the generous allowance from Mr.
DuPree was due, and his finances verged upon bankruptcy. Silvey had
another, and John contributed the remainder of his little hoard. That
brought the total to four cents.

"S'pose he'll sell us that little?" asked John, as they gazed at the
tempting array of vegetables in the store window. They opened the door
timidly. The rotund proprietor stepped forward as he stammered his
request.

"Of course!" He beamed on the trio good-naturedly. "What kind do you
want, boys?"

"Split's the cheapest," said Silvey thoughtfully.

"But they don't go as far, and it's harder to hit anything with them."

They ordered the more expensive projectiles and divided them equally
before they left the store. At the corner, the pharmacy was bombarded
persistently until the drug apprentice sprang through the doorway and
sent the boys flying down the street.

The pursuit slackened at last and the white coated youth turned to go
back. Silvey halted to pant a defiant "Ya-a-a, ya-a-a. Can't catch us.
Can't catch us."

John pulled his chum's arm impatiently and pointed to the vacant house
just three lots south of Silvey's home.

"Look," he whispered, suddenly cautious. "Some one's forgotten to close
the front door tight. We can lock it from the inside and go up to the
attic. Nobody can get in to chase us, and we won't do a thing with our
pea shooters, oh, no!"

"Maybe the folks haven't left. You can't tell."

"We can run, then. 'Sides, they won't do anything."

They crossed the street and tiptoed up the dusty, rain-spotted veranda
steps. John peered into the bleak, dirty parlor and reported the coast
clear. Nevertheless, they hesitated on the very threshold.

"You go first," sa