w against the window, at the same
time breaking the bottle.

Smash!

Splash!

"Gracious!" gasped Dick, believing that the store window had been
broken.

A yell from Tom arose as the contents of the pitcher deluged him.

Reade was up and away like a shot, reaching the street only to
cause a hue and cry to be started after him as he ran.

So swiftly had Tom moved, that by the time Dick Prescott reached
the street both pursuers and pursued were a block away and going
fast. Dick was about to join the chase when his father called
after him:

"Dick! Dick! Come back here!"

"Yes, sir," replied young Prescott, halting, wheeling, then springing
back. "But that scoundrel smashed the rear store window!"

"No, he didn't," laughed Mr. Prescott. "That was Tom Reade, and
he was playing a trick on you---with our permission. Now he's
being chased. Do you want to go out and aid that crowd in capturing
him?"

"Of course I don't, sir," replied Dick, who knew full well that
such a sturdy high school athlete as Tom Reade was in very little
danger of being caught by any citizen runners to be found on the
street at that time of night. "But what did Tom do, Dad?"

"I don't just know," admitted the bookseller. "Reade told us
there would be a smash of glass, but that it would be harmless.
He warned your mother, Dick, so that she wouldn't he startled
when it came. Tom did the right thing in warning your mother.
I wish all boys could realize that only cowards and fools go
about frightening women."

"But something else happened," insisted Mrs. Prescott. "I wonder
what it was?"

"Suppose we take a lantern and go out in the back yard and see,"
proposed Dick.

While Dick was finding the lantern the elder Prescott closed the
front of the store, also drawing down the shades for the night.

Dick's mother followed him into the rear yard. The fragments
of the bottle under one of the store windows told the whole story
to one as experienced in jokes as Dick Prescott.

"But see how wet the ground is," Mrs. Prescott remarked after
Dick had explained the trick.

"That was because I didn't recognize the joker, and emptied the
contents of my water pitcher on him just as he broke the bottle,"
Dick smiled. "Poor old Tom. That was really a shame!"

"But why did you pour the water on him?" asked Mrs. Prescott.

"Because I felt sure that the prowler was up to some mischief,
and I wanted to mark him for identification, mother,"