The Bobbsey Twins' Adventure in the Country Read online

  Next the auctioneer held up a long, wooden fork with three rounded prongs. “This is an old haying fork,” he announced. “Who’ll start the bidding at one dollar?”

  There was a ripple of laughter in the tent.

  “Just what I’ve always needed,” Mrs. Bobbsey whispered jokingly.

  “Do I hear fifty cents?” came the voice again. “Fifty cents for this haying fork?”

  Suddenly Harry called out, “I’ll give you twenty-five cents for it!” The twins exchanged looks of surprise.

  “SOLD for twenty-five cents!” the auctioneer cried in relief.

  “What are you going to do with a haying fork?” Bert asked, as Harry examined his bargain.

  Harry laughed. “Who knows? I guess I can always stand it in a corner and use it for a hat rack!” The children giggled at their cousin’s joke.

  The auctioneer stepped down from the platform for a little rest and the tent began to buzz with conversation.

  “Now he’ll put up the more expensive items,” a woman next to Nan told her.

  At that moment the auctioneer resumed his place. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, pounding his gavel for attention, “the next article which I shall put up for bidding is something special. I’m sure everyone in the audience who has children will be interested.”

  Nan looked expectantly at Aunt Sarah. “Is this it?” she asked excitedly.

  Her aunt nodded.

  There was a stir in the tent as a man led up to the front of the platform a sturdy brown-and-white Shetland pony. He was harnessed to a basket cart.

  “Oh! Isn’t he darling?” Flossie squealed.

  The other children in the tent thought so too, and they cried out in delight.

  “Who will start the bidding at twenty-five dollars?” the auctioneer called. “Twenty-five dollars for this fine pony and cart!”

  After some hesitation Mrs. Bobbsey raised her hand. “Twenty dollars!” she called. Then a voice from the other side of the tent called out, “Twenty-five!”

  “Twenty-five dollars, twenty-five dollars ! Do I hear thirty?”

  Again Mrs. Bobbsey raised her hand. But the other bidder quickly jumped the bid. “Forty dollars!”

  So the bidding went, with the other person going five or ten dollars higher each time Mrs. Bobbsey raised her hand. Finally she shook her head. “That’s as high as Dick wanted me to go,” she whispered to Uncle Daniel.

  Then she noticed the disappointed faces of the twins.

  “Fifty-five dollars I have,” the auctioneer cried. “Going, going ...”

  “Sixty dollars!” Mrs. Bobbsey quickly called out.

  The twins held their breath.

  “Sixty dollars I hear I” the man cried. “Going for sixty. Going for sixty. GONE for sixty dollars!”

  “Wow,” Freddie cried, beaming at his mother.

  “Goody, goody!” Flossie jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “May we take him home now?”

  While Uncle Daniel took the money and went up to pay the auctioneer, Mrs. Bobbsey explained to the twins that when Aunt Sarah had written that the pony and cart were to be put up for sale, their father had decided to buy them for the children.

  “But,” she continued, “ponies and carts are not allowed on the streets of Lakeport. So your father and I thought we would leave them here at Meadowbrook. You can use them whenever you come to visit and Harry can enjoy the pony and cart all year.”

  The twins thought this a good idea. Uncle Daniel came back to report, “The pony’s name is Rocket and he’s waiting for you outside. Who will drive him back?”

  “May Nan and I try?” Bert asked eagerly.

  “Very well,” Mrs. Bobbsey agreed. “Don’t go too fast. We’ll ride ahead with Uncle Daniel and meet you at the farm.”

  After the others had driven off, Bert and Nan, feeling very proud, climbed into the pony cart. Bert took the reins.

  “Giddap, Rocket!” he called. “Let’s go!”

  The little pony trotted obediently out of town and along the road leading to Meadowbrook Farm.

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” Nan cried. “With Rocket we’ll be able to ride all around the country by ourselves.”

  “Terrific !”

  Just then Rocket turned into a lane leading to a small farmhouse. Although Bert pulled firmly on the reins the little pony paid no attention. He trotted into a barn and stopped.

  In vain Bert tried to back him out. Rocket stood still.

  “Where do you suppose we are, Bert?” Nan asked nervously, looking around.

  At that moment an elderly man came into the barn. “Hello, Rocket,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, you’re Mr. Burns, aren’t you?” Bert asked in surprise. “Is this your barn?”

  “Yes and you’re Dan Bobbsey’s nephew and niece!” the farmer exclaimed. “Did you buy Rocket at the auction?”

  Bert explained that he and his sister were just driving the pony home after their mother had purchased him.

  “Rocket used to belong to my grandchildren,” Mr. Bums told them. “But they’ve moved away so I put the pony and cart up for sale. I guess Rocket doesn’t realize this isn’t his home anymore!”

  The friendly farmer took hold of Rocket’s bridle and turned him around. He gave him a little slap on the flank and the pony trotted obediently down the lane.

  “Thank you, Mr. Burns,” Nan called back. “We’ll bring Rocket to visit you again.”

  A little later when Bert turned Rocket up the Bobbsey driveway, Harry ran toward them. The twins could see their cousin was upset

  “‘Whats the matter?” Bert called to him.

  “Major, our bull, has been stolen!” Harry cried.

  CHAPTER VI

  A LOST PICNICKER

  “MAJOR gone !” Bert exclaimed. “When did it happen?”

  Harry explained that he had fed the prize bull that morning and left him in his pen. “When we got back from the auction I went out to see him and he wasn’t there!”

  “Did Dinah or Martha notice any strangers around?” Nan asked.

  Harry shook his head. “They were busy in the kitchen fixing things for the picnic and didn’t hear anything unusual. Dad is talking to the State Troopers on the phone now.”

  “That’s terrible, Harry!” Nan said sympathetically. “Another mystery to solve! We’ll help.”

  “I hope you can solve this one,” Harry said sadly. “Major is very valuable!”

  Officers Kent and Bennett arrived in a little while and the children watched in fascination as they tried to figure out what had happened.

  “I’d say a truck came up here through the field back of the barn and carried the bull away,” Lieutenant Kent told them. “That’s why no one at the house heard it.”

  “Are these the thief’s shoe marks?” Bert asked, pointing to some which ran alongside those of the bull out to the field.

  The officer nodded. “I suppose the bull was driven up a ramp into the truck.”

  “Maybe this is a clue to the man who took him,” Nan said excitedly. She had picked up a pocket notebook with the initials CM on it. Nothing was written on the inside pages.

  “It very well could be,” the lieutenant said. “I’ll take the notebook along anyway.”

  Presently the officers went off. That evening the twins waited hopefully for good news from the police, but none came.

  Early the next morning Bert ran out to the barn to feed Rocket. He paused to look at Major’s empty pen and thought, “It’s a shame !Losing the bull is a big blow to Uncle Daniel.”

  Bert went on. He found the little brown-and-white pony standing quietly in his stall.

  “How are you, old fellow?” Bert asked, patting him on the flank.

  In answer Rocket put out his nose and nuzzled Bert. The boy speared some hay into the box and the little animal began to munch hungrily.

  As Bert stood watching him, he thought he heard a rustle in the mow above him. Glancing up he was ju
st in time to see a tousled yellow head draw back.

  “Who’s up there?” Bert called.

  “It’s just me,” came a small voice.

  “Well, come down here, whoever you are,” Bert said sternly.

  A little boy climbed slowly down the ladder. He was about Freddie’s age and had yellow hair and big brown eyes. His clothes were rumpled and bits of straw stuck out of his hair.

  “Who are you? Where did you come from?” Bert asked in surprise.

  “My name is Skipper Brooks. The bus went off without me,” the child replied. Then he added, “I’m hungry!”

  “I’ll take you into the house and give you some breakfast,” Bert promised. “Then you can tell us what happened.”

  Skipper put his hand in Bert’s and trotted along by his side. They went upstairs, where Skipper washed, and brushed his hair. Then they came down to the dining room. Everyone looked up from the table in astonishment.

  “This is Skipper Brooks,” Bert introduced the boy. “I found him in the haymow.”

  Aunt Sarah motioned Skipper to a chair beside her. “Sit here, dear, and have some breakfast,” she said kindly. “Then you can tell us all about your adventure.”

  Martha put a big bowl of oatmeal before the little boy, and he began to eat hungrily. Freddie and Flossie watched him intently. Skipper finally put down his spoon and reached for his glass of milk. “Where do you live?” Flossie asked him.

  “New York,” Skipper replied. “But I was on my way to camp when I got off the bus.”

  Uncle Daniel looked up. “Were you going to the Fresh Air Camp, Sonny?” he inquired.

  Skipper nodded. “Yes. But the bus had something the matter with it. The driver stopped to get it fixed and I went down under the bridge to look at the pretty water. Then when I climbed back up to the road, the bus was gone !”

  “How did you get here?” Nan asked.

  “I walked. I didn’t see anybody around this place. I was awful tired so I climbed up onto that shelf with the nice dry grass and went to sleep.”

  Flossie giggled when she heard Skipper call the haymow a shelf. But Mrs. Bobbsey shook her head warningly for her to stop.

  Uncle Daniel pushed back his chair. “I’d better call Mrs. Manily, the camp director, and tell her we have one of her guests with us. She’s probably worried about what happened to him!” Daniel Bobbsey was on the committee which ran the Fresh Air Camp for city children every summer.

  While he was gone, Freddie and Flossie made friends with Skipper. “We’ll take you riding in our new pony cart,” Freddie promised.

  In a few minutes Uncle Daniel returned. “Mrs. Manily was very glad to learn that you’re safe, Skipper. She also said you could come with us to the picnic we’re having today.”

  “That’s super!” Harry exclaimed. “You’ll have a good time, Skipper. I’m going to take my homing pigeons along and I’ll show you how they carry messages!”

  Skipper looked a little puzzled but very happy. After church Uncle Daniel harnessed Billy and Betty to the old wagon filled with sweet-smelling hay. The Bobbsey children and Skipper climbed in. Uncle Daniel kept the cage with the pigeons in it on the seat near him.

  The first stop was at the Holden farm where Tom and his little brother Roy joined the group. Then they turned into the Stout farm. Bud Stout was a little like his last name.

  When he came out of the house he looked embarrassed. “Mark Teron is here,” Bud said. “Is it all right for him to come, too?”

  Harry made a face. Mark was sort of a bully. But Uncle Daniel said cordially, “Of course. The more the merrier !”

  Two more stops added Patty Manners and Kim Harold to the group. It was a beautiful day and the children had a good time singing and joking as Billy and Betty jogged along.

  After the hayriders had been on the road for a little while, Bud called out, “May we stop at the spring for a drink of water, Mr. Bobbsey?”

  “Sure!” Uncle Daniel pulled the horses off the road. From the side of the hill a stream of cold water poured down. It fell into a round basin built of stones.

  There were no cups, so the children took turns bending over and holding their mouths under the clear stream of water. Mark Teron stood back talking to Bud.

  “Bert Bobbsey thinks he’s smart because he comes from the city,” Mark complained. “I don’t like him.”

  “He seems all right to me,” Bud replied.

  Mark waited until it was Bert’s turn to drink. Then as the Bobbsey boy bent over, Mark stepped up behind him. The next thing Bert knew his face was being pushed into the basin and held there.

  He struggled to raise his head but could not do it. His mouth and nose filled with water. Bert held his breath, though. Just when he felt as if his lungs would burst, the grip relaxed.

  Gasping for breath, Bert straightened up. He saw Harry punch Mark in the shoulder. “What’s the big idea?” Harry cried. “You leave my cousin alone!”

  “I didn’t hurt the big sissy I” Mark spluttered, aiming a blow at Harry.

  “Stop your fighting, you two!” Uncle Daniel ordered. “Mark, if you can’t behave yourself, you’ll have to walk home!”

  Grumbling, Mark followed the others back to the wagon and climbed in. Everyone talked at once to cover up the unpleasant incident. Soon Uncle Daniel turned into a narrow road which wound through a woods.

  “Whoa, Betty! Whoa, Billy!” he called a few minutes later when he reached an open space surrounded by tall pine trees. He turned around in his seat and spoke to the boys and girls in the wagon. “This looks like a good picnic spot. We’ll stop here.”

  There was a lot of laughing and teasing as the children jumped down from the hay wagon. The boys carried the baskets of food to the clearing while Uncle Daniel unhitched the horses.

  Bert and Harry spread out the long picnic cloth on the pine needles and anchored each corner with a large stone. Patty and Kim put paper plates and cups around, then went to help Nan and Flossie unpack the baskets of food.

  “Ooh! Everything looks good!” Flossie exclaimed, and the others agreed with her.

  There were big platters of crisp fried chicken. Next came two blue bowls filled with creamy potato salad, packages of thin bread and butter sandwiches, potato chips, deviled eggs, pickles, olives, and crisp celery stuffed with cheese. There was also a bowl of cole slaw decorated with slices of pimiento.

  Freddie had been watching the unpacking, his blue eyes growing wider by the minute. “Oh boy!” he cried. “This is the best-looking picnic I ever went to!”

  Last, Nan and Patty lifted out two cakes—one covered with fluffy coconut and the other with shiny dark chocolate. “I can hardly wait for dessert!” Flossie declared.

  Little Skipper’s eyes were big as saucers. “I’m glad I did get lost,” he said.

  Some of the children had scattered and were playing among the trees. When Nan announced that the picnic was ready, Uncle Daniel took a whistle from his pocket and blew a shrill blast.

  “Food’s on!” he called. “Come and get it!”

  Quickly the boys and girls took their places around the picnic cloth. Bert and Harry poured cold milk from three big thermoses into paper cups.

  With many ohs and ahs the children began to eat. Finally Freddie stood up. “I’m awf’ly sorry,” he said regretfully, “but I just can’t finish my cake!”

  “Put it here,” Uncle Daniel remarked. “I’ll eat it.”

  Hearing this, Flossie passed him her cake, too. Then, when he was looking the other way, Nan giggled and slid the rest of her piece onto her uncle’s plate.

  When Uncle Daniel looked at the pile of cake he laughed and all the others joined in. “Goodness!” he exclaimed. “If I eat all this, I’ll look like Santa Claus!”

  Everyone got up from the picnic spot and stretched. “Let’s have a game of hide and seek,” Nan proposed. “I’ll be ‘it’ first.”

  Nan covered her eyes and the boys and girls disappeared among the trees. She caught Pat
ty first as she spotted the girl’s head over a low bush. Soon the others were dashing about trying to get “home free.”

  “Where’s Flossie?” Nan asked when everyone else had been brought in.

  “She’s still hiding, I guess,” Roy ventured. He had started out with Flossie but lost sight of her when he ran in.

  “Flossie!” Nan called. “Come on in!”

  But Flossie did not appear. All the children called and called and Uncle Daniel blew his whistle, but Flossie did not answer.

  “Where do you suppose she can be?” Nan said worriedly.

  Little Skipper spoke up timidly. “I think she went that way.” He pointed off among the trees.

  Harry heard him. “The cliff’s over there!” he exclaimed. “We’d better go after Flossie before she falls down on the rocks!”

  CHAPTER VII

  A ROCKY TRAP

  NAN turned pale. “A cliff!” she cried, and dashed off through the woods, with Bert and Harry close behind her.

  The trio soon reached the edge of the cliff. “Oh!” Nan gasped. “Look!”

  “Flossie!” Bert and Harry chorused. They stared unbelievingly down over the cliff.

  There, by herself among a pile of rocks, was Flossie! She was crying.

  “Come back! Climb up!” Nan cried.

  “I can’t. The stones are too roll-y.”

  “She’s right,” said Bert. “We’ll have to make a chain by holding hands.”

  He grabbed Harry’s right wrist and Harry clasped his, Nan took her cousin’s left. Bud held her other wrist, then the girls joined the line. Mark Teron stood to one side, not offering to help.

  “I hurt my arm yesterday,” he used as an excuse.

  Uncle Daniel ran up as the line started to move down the cliff, and said he would act as “anchor man” at the end of the “human rope.” In a short while Bert reached Flossie and put his free arm around her shoulders.

  Not a word was spoken until the little girl had been rescued. Then Nan said, “Oh, Flossie, why did you run off and scare us all?”

  “I wanted to hide in a good place,” her little sister explained. “I thought I’d just go down this big hill a little way, but I couldn’t stop, and I slid and slid.”