engeance
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 Bob had crawled out from under the stoop and had crossed
the street to Join Ted.

"Did you see anything?" he asked.

"Did I?" asked Ted. "Well, I should say I did. It was great.
How'd ye think of it?"

"Did I do anything?" asked Bob innocently. "I thought Bill Hodge
stubbed his toe and fell. Probably he slipped in some molasses."

"Did you pull the spigot open?"

"Me? No, I didn't, but maybe the string did. I guess I've got to
hurry home with this lard. Mom wants to make some pies."

Bob got home much sooner than his mother expected he would. He
gave her the lard, and then went out under the apple tree where he
had left the paper snappers.

"He's back quick," mused Mrs. Henderson. "I don't see how he had
time to do any mischief. Perhaps he didn't play any tricks on any
one this time," for Bob seldom went through the village but what he
did so. However, Mrs. Henderson was mistaken, as we know.

During this time Mr. Hodge was busy wiping as much of the molasses
off the floor as he could with old cloths and pieces of newspaper.
While he was doing this a customer came in and inquired:

"What's the matter? Molasses barrel spring a leak, Bill?"

"Leak? No, it was that pesky Bob Henderson. Wait till I git hold
of him! I'll make him smart. An' I'm goin' to sue his father."

"What did he do? Why, Bill, you walk lame. What's the matter, got
rheumatiz?"

"It's all on account of Bob."

"What did he do?"

"Came here for some lard. When I was down cellar gittin' it he tied
a string to the molasses barrel spigot and stretched i