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