ear.
Meanwhile Bob continued on and was soon at the grocery store.

"Good-afternoon, Mr. Hodge," he said politely.

"Arternoon," replied Mr. Hodge, for he was not fond of boys, least
of all Bob Henderson. "What d' you want?"

He had an air as if he was saying:

"Now none of your tricks, you young rapscallion! If you play any
jokes on me you'll smart for it!"

"Mother wants a pound of lard--the best lard, Mr. Hodge," said Bob.

"I don't keep any but the best."

"Then I want a pound. It's a fine day, isn't it?"

"I don't see nothin' the matter with it. 'Tain't rainin' anyhow.
Now don't you upset anything while I go fer the lard. I have t'
keep it down cellar, it's so hot up here."

Bob knew this. In fact, he counted on it for what he was about to
do. No sooner had the storekeeper started down the cellar stairs
than Bob pulled from his pocket a long, stout piece of cord. He
quickly fastened one end of it to the spigot of a molasses barrel,
which stood about half way back in the store. Then he ran the cord
forward and across the doorway, about six inches from the floor,
and fastened the other end to a barrel of flour as a sort of anchor.

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 v