. The snappers were oblong pieces of stout wrapping paper,
folded in such a way that when swung through the air they went off
like a bag blown up and crushed between the hands. Bob was an
expert in their manufacture.

"Come," went on Mrs. Henderson, when she was satisfied that her
face was no longer adorned with flour, "I want you to go to the
store for some lard. Tell Mr. Hodge you want the best. Here's the
money."

"All right, mom, I'll go right away. Do you want anything else?"

Now Bob usually made more of a protest than this when asked to go
to the store, which was at the other end of the village of
Moreville, where he lived. He generally wanted to stay at his
play, or was on the point of going off with some boy of his
acquaintance.

But this time he prepared to go without making any complaint, and
had his mother not been so preoccupied thinking of her housework,
she might have suspected that the lad had some mischief afoot--some
scheme that he wanted to carry out, and which going to the store
would further.

"No, I guess the lard is all I need now," she said. "Now do hurry,
Bob. Don't stop on the way, for I want to get these pies baked
before supper."

"I'll hurry, mom."

There was a curious smile on Bob's face, and as he got his hat from
the ground before setting off on the errand he looked in his pocket
to see if he had a certain long, stout piece of cord.

"I guess that will do the trick," murmured the boy to himself.
"Oh, yes, I'll hurry back all right! Guess I'll have to if I don't
want Bill Hodge to catch me."

There was a cunning look on Bob's face, and the twinkle in his eyes
increased as he set off down the village street.

"I hope he doesn't get into mischief," murmured Mrs. Henderson, as
she went back to her work in the kitchen. "If he wasn't such an
honest boy, I would be more worried than I am about him. But I
guess he will outgrow it," she added hopefully.

Bob Henderson, who is to be the hero of our Story, was the only son
of Mr. and Mrs. Enos Henderson. They lived in Moreville, a
thriving New England town, and Bob's father was employed in a large
woolen mill in the place.

Bob attended the local school, and he was a sort of leader among a
certain class of boys. They were all manly chaps, but perhaps were
inclined more to mischief than they should be. And none of them
was any more inclined that way than Bob. He was rather wild, and
some of the things he did were unk