Bob the Castaway | Page 3

"Bill Hodge's."
"What fer?"
"Lard."

"Want me t' go 'long?"
"If you want to," and there was a half smile on Bob's face. Ted knew
the meaning of that smile. He had more than once been associated with
Bob in his tricks.
"Kin I watch ye?" he asked eagerly.
"What for?" asked Bob with an air of assumed indignation. "What do
you think I'm going to do?"
"Oh, that's all right," returned Ted. "I won't say anythin'. Let me watch,
will yer?"
"I don't s'pose I can stop you," replied Bob, with an appearance of lofty
virtue. "The street's public property. I haven't any right to say you
shan't stand in front of Bill's store until I come out. You can if you want
to."
"Maybe I won't then!" exclaimed Ted.
"Better not walk along with me," advised Bob. "Folks might think we
were up to something."
"That's so. Like when we burned some feathers under the church when
they were having prayer meeting."
"Don't speak so loud," cautioned Bob. "You'll give things away."
Thus admonished, Ted took a position well to his chum's rear.
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 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