The Bobbsey Twins Megapack Page 6

  “Oh, the bad gypsies!” cried Flossie, and gave a shudder. The idea that Freddie might have been carried off by the gypsies was truly terrifying.

  Mr. Bobbsey had been out a dozen times to the police headquarters and to the lake front. A report had come in that a boy looking like Freddie had been seen on the ice early in the evening, and he did not know but what the little fellow might have wandered in that direction.

  When the telephone bell rang Mr. Bobbsey had just come in from another fruitless search. Both he and his wife ran to the telephone.

  “Hullo!” came over the wire. “Is this Mr. Bobbsey’s house?”

  “It is,” answered the gentleman quickly. “What do you want? Have you any news?”

  “I’ve found your little boy, sir,” came back the reply. “He is safe and sound with me.”

  “And who are you?”

  “The night watchman at the department store. He went to sleep here, that’s all.”

  At this news all were overjoyed.

  “Let me speak to him,” said Mrs. Bobbsey eagerly. “Freddie dear, are you there?” she asked.

  “Yes, mamma,” answered Freddie, into the telephone. “And I want to come home.”

  “You shall, dear. Papa shall come for you at once.”

  “Oh, he’s found! He’s found!” shrieked Nan. “Aren’t you glad, Bert?”

  “Of course I am,” answered Bert. “But I can’t understand how he happened to go to sleep in such a lively store as that.”

  “He must have walked around until he got tired,” replied Nan. “You know Freddie can drop off to sleep very quickly when he gets tired.”

  As soon as possible Mr. Bobbsey drove around to the department store in his sleigh. The watchman and Freddie were on the look-out for him, the little boy with the kitten still in his arms.

  “Oh, papa!” cried Freddie. “I am so glad you have come! I—I don’t want to go to sleep here again!”

  The watchman’s story was soon told, and Mr. Bobbsey made him happy by presenting him with a two-dollar bill.

  “The little chap would have been even more lonely if it hadn’t been for the kitten,” said the man. “He wanted to keep the thing, so I told him to do it.”

  “And I’m going to,” said Freddie proudly. “It’s just the dearest kitten in the world.” And keep the kitten he did. It soon grew to be a big, fat cat and was called Snoop.

  By the time home was reached, Freddie was sleepy again. But he speedily woke up when his mamma and the others embraced him, and then he had to tell the story of his adventure from end to end.

  “I do not know as I shall take you with me again,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “You have given us all a great scare.”

  “Oh, mamma, I won’t leave you like that again,” cried Freddie quickly. “Don’t like to be in the dark ’tall,” he added.

  “Oh, it must have been awful,” said Flossie. “Didn’t you see any—any ghosts?”

  “Barrels of them,” said Freddie, nodding his head sleepily. “But they didn’t touch me. Guess they was sleepy, just like me.” And then he dropped off and had to be put to bed; and that was the end of this strange happening.

  CHAPTER XI

  The Cruise of the “Ice Bird”

  The building of the ice boat by Bert and Charley Mason interested Nan almost as much as it did the boys, and nearly every afternoon she went down to the lumber yard to see how the work was getting along.

  Mr. Bobbsey had given Bert just the right kind of lumber, and had a man at the saw-mill saw the sticks and boards to a proper size. He also gave his son some ropes and a pair of old iron runners from a discarded sleigh, so that all Charley had to provide was the bed-sheet already mentioned, for a sail.

  The two boys worked with a will, and by Thursday evening had the ice boat completed. They christened the craft the Ice Bird, and Bert insisted upon it that his father come and see her.

  “You have certainly done very well,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “This looks as if you were cut out for a builder, Bert.”

  “Well, I’d like to build big houses and ships first-rate,” answered Bert.

  The sail was rigged with the help of an old sailor who lived down by the lake shore, and on Friday afternoon Bert and Charley took a short trip. The Ice Bird behaved handsomely, much to the boys’ satisfaction.

  “She’s a dandy!” cried Bert. “How she can whiz before the wind.”

  “You must take me out soon,” said Nan.

  “I will,” answered Bert.

  The chance to go out with Bert came sooner than expected. On Monday morning Mrs. Mason made up her mind to pay a distant relative a visit and asked Charley if he wished to go along. The boy wanted to see his cousins very much and said yes; and thus the ice boat was left in Bert’s sole charge.

  “I’ll take you out Monday afternoon, after school,” said Bert to his twin sister.

  “Good!” cried Nan. “Let us go directly school is out, so as to have some good, long rides.”

  Four o’clock in the afternoon found them at the lake shore. It was a cloudy day with a fair breeze blowing across the lake.

  “Now you sit right there,” said Bert, as he pointed to a seat in the back of the boat. “And hold on tight or you’ll be thrown overboard.”

  Nan took the seat mentioned, and her twin brother began to hoist the mainsail of the Ice Bird. It ran up easily, and caught by the wind the craft began to skim over the surface of the lake like a thing of life.

  “Oh, but this is lovely!” cried Nan gleefully. “How fast the boat spins along!”

  “I wish there were more ice boats around,” answered Bert. “We might then have a race.”

  “Oh, it is pleasure enough just to sail around,” said Nan.

  Many other boys and girls wished a ride on the ice boat, and in the end Bert carried a dozen or more across the lake and back. It was rather hard work tacking against the wind, but the old sailor had taught him how it might be done, and he got along fairly well. When the ice boat got stuck all the boys and girls got off and helped push the craft along.

  “It is ’most supper time,” said Nan, as the whistle at the saw-mill blew for six o’clock. “We’ll have to go home soon, Bert.”

  “Oh, let us take one more trip,” pleaded her twin brother.

  The other boys and girls had gone and they were left alone. To please Bert, Nan consented, and their course was changed so that the Ice Bird might move down the lake instead of across.

  It had grown dark and the stars which might have shone in the sky were hidden by heavy clouds.

  “Not too far now, remember,” said Nan.

  The wind had veered around and was blowing directly down the lake, so, almost before they knew it, the Ice Bird was flying along at a tremendous rate of speed. Nan had to hold on tight for fear of falling off, and had to hold her hat, too, for fear that would be blown away.

  “Oh, Bert, this is too fast!” she gasped, catching her breath.

  “It’s just glorious, Nan!” he cried. “Just hold on, it won’t hurt you.”

  “But—but how are we to get back?”

  Bert had not thought of that, and at the question his face fell a little.

  “Oh, we’ll get back somehow,” he said evasively.

  “You had better turn around now.”

  “Let us go just a little bit further, Nan,” he pleaded.

  When at last he started to turn back he found himself unable to do so. The wind was blowing fiercely and the Ice Bird swept on before it in spite of all he could do.

  “Bert! Bert! Oh, why don’t you turn around?” screamed Nan. She had to scream in order to make herself heard.

  “I—I can’t,” he faltered. “She won’t come around.”

  Nan was very much frightened, and it must be confessed that Bert was frightened too. He hauled on the sail and on the steering gear, and at last the Ice Bird swung partly around. But instead of returning up the lake the craft headed for the western shore, and in a few minutes they struck som
e lumpy ice and some snow and dirt, and both were thrown out at full length, while the Ice Bird was tipped up on one side.

  Bert picked himself up without difficulty and then went to Nan’s aid. She lay deep in the snow, but fortunately was not hurt. Both gazed at the tipped-up ice boat in very great dismay.

  “Bert, whatever shall we do now?” asked Nan, after a spell of silence. “We’ll never get home at all!”

  “Oh, yes, we shall,” he said, bravely enough, but with a sinking heart. “We’ve got to get home, you know.”

  “But the ice boat is upset, and it’s so dark I can’t see a thing.”

  “I think I can right the ice boat. Anyway, I can try.”

  Doing his best to appear brave, Bert tried to shove the Ice Bird over to her original position. But the craft was too heavy for him, and twice she fell back, the second time coming close to smashing his toes.

  “Look out, or you’ll hurt your foot,” cried Nan. “Let me help you.”

  Between them they presently got the craft right side up. But now the wind was blowing directly from the lake, so to get the Ice Bird out on the ice again was beyond them. Every time they shoved the craft out the wind drove her back.

  “Oh, dear, I guess we have got to stay here after all!” sighed Bert, at last.

  “Not stay here all night, I hope!” gasped Nan. “That would be worse than to stay in the store, as Freddie did.”

  It began to snow. At first the flakes were but few, but soon they came down thicker and thicker, blotting out the already darkened landscape.

  “Let us walk home,” suggested Nan. “That will be better than staying out here in the snow storm.”

  “It’s a long walk. If only we had brought our skates.” But alas! neither had thought to bring skates, and both pairs were in the office at the lumber yard.

  “I don’t think we had better walk home over the ice,” said Bert, after another pause. “We may get all turned around and lost. Let us walk over to the Hopedale road.”

  “I wish we had some crullers, or something,” said Nan, who was growing hungry. They had each had a cruller on leaving home, but had eaten them up before embarking on the ice-boat voyage.

  “Please don’t speak of them, Nan. You make me feel awfully hollow,” came from her twin brother. And the way he said this was so comical it made her laugh in spite of her trouble.

  The laugh put them both in better spirits, and leaving the Ice Bird where she lay, they set off through the snow in the direction of the road which ran from Lakeport to the village of Hopedale, six miles away.

  “It will take us over an hour to get home,” said Nan.

  “Yes, and I suppose we’ll catch it for being late,” grumbled Bert. “Perhaps we won’t get any supper.”

  “Oh, I know mamma won’t scold us after she finds out why we were late, Bert.”

  They had to cross a pasture and climb a fence before the road was reached. Here was an old cow-shed and they stood in the shelter of this for a moment, out of the way of the wind and driving snow.

  “Hey!” cried Bert as they were on the point of continuing their journey.

  “It’s a dog!” answered Nan. “Oh, Bert, he is coming this way. Perhaps he is savage!”

  They listened and could hear the dog plainly. He was barking furiously and coming toward them as fast as he could travel. Soon they made out his black form looming into view through the falling snow.

  CHAPTER XII

  Tige—Playing Theater

  Nan dearly loved the dogs with which she was well acquainted, but she was in great terror of strange animals, especially if they barked loudly and showed a disposition to bite.

  “Bert! Bert! what shall we do?” she gasped as she clung to her twin brother’s arm.

  Bert hardly knew what to say, for he himself did not like a biting dog. He looked around for a stick or a stone, and espied the doorway to the cow-shed. It was open.

  “Let us get into the shed,” he said quickly. “Perhaps we can close the door and keep the dog out.”

  Into the shed sprang Nan and her twin brother after her. The dog was almost upon them when Bert banged the door in his face. At once the animal stopped short and began to bark more furiously than ever.

  “Do you—you think he can get in at the window?” faltered Nan. She was so scared she could scarcely speak.

  “I don’t know, I’m sure. If you’ll stand by the door, Nan, I’ll try to guard the window.”

  Nan threw her form against the door and held it as hard as if a giant were outside trying to force it in. Bert felt around the empty shed and picked up the handle of a broken spade. With this in hand he stalked over to the one little window which was opposite the door.

  “Are there any cows here?” asked Nan. It was so dark she could see next to nothing.

  “No cows here, I guess,” answered Bert. “This building is ’most ready to tumble down.”

  The dog outside was barking still. Once in a while he would stop to catch his breath and then he would continue as loudly as ever. He scratched at the door with his paw, which made Nan shiver from head to feet.

  “He is trying to work his way in,” she cried.

  “If he does that, I’ll hit him with this,” answered her twin brother, and brandished the spade handle over his head. He watched the window closely and wondered what they had best do if the dog leaped straight through and attacked them in the dark.

  The barking continued for over quarter of an hour. To Nan and Bert it seemed hours and hours. Then came a call from a distance.

  “Hi, Tige, what’s the matter? Have you spotted a tramp in the shed?”

  “Help! help!” called out Bert. “Call off your dog!”

  “A tramp, sure enough,” said the man who was coming toward the cow-shed.

  “I am not a tramp,” answered Bert. “And my sister isn’t a tramp, either.”

  “What’s that? You’ve got your sister with you? Open the door.”

  “Please, we are afraid of the dog,” came from Nan. “He came after us and we ran into the shed for shelter.”

  “Oh, that’s it?” The farmer gave a short laugh. “Well, you needn’t be skeert! Tige won’t hurt ye none.”

  “Are you sure of that?” put in Bert. “He seems to be very savage.”

  “I won’t let him touch ye.”

  Thus assured Nan opened the door and followed Bert outside. At a word from the farmer Tige stopped barking and began to wag his tail.

  “That dog wouldn’t hurt nobody, ’ceptin’ he was attacked, or if a person tried to git in my house,” said Farmer Sandborn. “He’s a very nice fellow, he is, and likes boys and gals fust-rate; don’t ye, Tige?” And the dog wagged his tail harder than ever, as if he understood every word.

  “I—I was so scared,” said Nan.

  “May I ask what you be a-doin’ on the road all alone and in this snowstorm?”

  “We are going home,” answered Bert, and then explained how they had been ice-boating and what had happened on the lake.

  “I do declare!” cried Farmer Sandborn. “So the boat up an’ run away with ye, did she? Contrary critter, eh!” And he began to laugh. “Who be you?”

  “I am Bert Bobbsey and this is my twin sister Nan.”

  “Oh, yes, I know now. You’re one pair o’ the Bobbsey twins, as they call ’em over to Lakeport. I’ve heard Sary speak o’ ye. Sary’s my wife.” The farmer ran his hand through his thick beard. “You can’t tramp home in this storm.”

  “Oh, we must get home,” said Nan. “What will mamma say? She will think we are killed, or drowned, or something,—and she isn’t over the scare she got when Freddie was lost.”

  “I’ll take you back to town in my sleigh,” said Farmer Sandborn. “I was going to town for some groceries to-morrow morning, but I might just as well go now, while the roads are open. They’ll be all closed up ag’in by daylight, if this storm keeps up.”

  He led the way down the road to his house and they were glad enough to f
ollow. By Nan’s side walked Tige and he licked her hand, just to show that he wanted to make friends with her.

  “I guess you are a good dog after all,” said she, patting his head. “But you did give me such a scare!”

  Both of the twins were very cold and glad enough to warm themselves by the kitchen fire while the farmer hitched up his horse. The farmer’s wife wished to give them supper, but this they declined, saying they would get supper at home. But she made each eat a big cookie, which tasted exceedingly good.

  Soon Farmer Sandborn drove around to the door with his sleigh and in they piled, on the soft straw, with several robes to keep them warm. Then the horse set off on a brisk trot for town.

  “It’s a nice enough sleigh ride for anybody,” declared Bert. And yet they did not enjoy it very much, for fear of what would happen to them when they got home.

  “Where in the world have you been?” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey as she ran to the door to let them in. “We have been looking all over for you. Your papa was afraid you had been drowned in the lake.”

  An evening dinner was in waiting for them, and sitting down to satisfy their hunger, they told their story, to which all of the others listened with much interest.

  “You can be thankful you weren’t blown clear to the other end of the lake,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “I think after this you had better leave ice-boating alone.”

  “I know I shall!” declared Nan.

  “Oh, I’ll be more careful, papa, after this,” pleaded Bert. “You know I promised to go out again with Charley.”

  “Well then, don’t go when the wind is strong,” and Bert promised.

  “I’m so glad the dog didn’t bite you,” said little Flossie. “He might have given you hy—hydropics.”

  “Flossie means hydrophobics,” put in Freddie. “Ain’t no hydropics, is there, Bert?”

  “Oh, Freddie, you mean hydrophobia!” burst out Nan, with a laugh.

  “No, I mean hydrophobics,” insisted the little fellow. “That’s what Dinah calls them anyway.”

  After the adventure on the ice boat matters ran smoothly with the Bobbsey twins for two weeks and more. There was a great deal of snow and as a consequence Freddie and Flossie stayed home from school most of the time. Nan and Bert also remained home two separate days, and during those days all of the children had great fun in the attic, where there was a large storeroom, filled with all sort of things.