The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  Down and down went poor Bert into the deep snow, until he thought he was never going to stop. Bob was beside him, and both floundered around wildly until almost the bottom of the pit was reached.

  “Oh, Bob!”

  “Oh, Bert! Are you hurt?”

  “Don’t know as I am. But what a tumble!”

  “Rusher has run away!”

  “I was afraid he’d do that.”

  For a minute the two boys knew not what to do. The deep snow lay all around them and how to get out of the pit was a serious question.

  “It’s a wonder we weren’t smothered,” said Bob. “Are you quite sure no bones have been broken?”

  “Bones broken? Why, Bob, it was like coming down on a big feather bed. I only hope Rusher doesn’t do any damage.”

  “So do I.”

  When the boys finally floundered out of the hollow into which they had fallen, they found themselves in snow up to their waists. On all sides of them were the walls of the sand pit, ten to fifteen feet high.

  “I don’t see how we are going to get out of this,” said Bert dolefully. “We can’t climb out.”

  “We’ll have to do it,” answered Bob. “Come, follow me.”

  He led the way through the deep snow to where the walls did not seem to be so high. At one spot the rain had washed down part of the soil.

  “Let us try to climb up that slope,” said the larger boy and led the way, and Bert followed.

  It was hard work and it made Bert pant for breath, for the snow was still up to his waist. But both kept on, and in the end they stood on the edge of the sand pit, opposite to the side which ran along the road.

  “Now we have got to walk around,” said Bob. “But that will be easy, if we keep to the places where the wind has swept the snow away.”

  At last they stood on the road, and this reached both struck out for Dalton, less than a mile away.

  “I’m afraid I’ll catch it, if Rusher has smashed up the cutter,” said Bob as they hurried along.

  “We did wrong to race,” answered Bert.

  “Humph! it’s no use to cry over spilt milk, Bert.”

  “I know that, Bob. Was the cutter a new one?”

  “No, but I know father won’t want it smashed up.”

  Much downhearted the boys kept on walking. Bert had not wanted to race, yet he felt he was guilty for having taken part. Perhaps his father would have to pay for part of the damage done.

  “Maybe old Rusher ran right into town and smashed things right and left,” he said to his friend.

  “It would be just like him,” sighed Bob. “It will make an awful bill to pay, won’t it?”

  A little further on they came to where a barn and a wagon shed lined the road. Under the shed stood a horse and cutter.

  “My gracious me!” burst out Bob.

  “Why—why—is it Rusher?” gasped Bert.

  “It is!” shouted his friend.

  Both boys ran up, and as they did so a farmer came from the barn.

  “Oh, Mr. Daly, did you catch our horse?”

  “I did, Bob,” said the farmer. “Had a runaway, eh?”

  “Yes, sir. Rusher threw us both into the old sand pit. I’m ever so glad you caught him. Is the cutter broken?”

  “Not that I noticed. I knew you must have had a spill-out. I saw you going to the lake right after dinner.”

  Both boys inspected the cutter and found it in good condition, outside of a few scratches that did not count. Old Rusher was also all right, for which they were thankful.

  “It was nice of you to stop the horse,” said Bert to Farmer Daly.

  “Oh, I’d do as much for anybody,” said the farmer. “That is, if it wasn’t too dangerous. Rusher wasn’t running very fast when I caught him.”

  “He was running fast enough when he threw us out,” answered Bob.

  It did not take the boys long to get into the cutter again.

  “Don’t let him get away on the road home,” sang out Farmer Daly after them.

  “No fear of that,” answered Bob.

  He was very careful how he let Rusher step out. It was growing late, but Bert did not urge him on, so it was half-past five before the Ramdell house was reached.

  “You are late after all,” said Mr. Bobbsey, rather displeased.

  “Oh, we’ve had such an adventure,” cried Bert.

  “What happened to you?” questioned Mrs. Bobbsey quickly.

  “Rusher threw us into a sand pit,” answered Bert, and then told the whole story.

  “You can be thankful that you were not hurt,” said his mamma.

  “I am thankful, mamma.”

  “Rusher is still full of go,” said Mrs. Ramdell. “I have warned my husband not to let Bob drive him.”

  “Oh, it was the brush with the other cutter that did it,” said Bob. “Rusher couldn’t stand it to let another horse pass him on the road.”

  Shortly after this, good-bys were said, and Sam brought around the big family sleigh from the barn. Into this the whole Bobbsey family piled, and off they went, in the gathering gloom of the short winter day.

  “I’ve had a lovely time!” called out Nan.

  “So have I had a lovely time,” added little Flossie.

  “Splendid,” came from Freddie. “The baby is awful nice to play with.”

  “I’ve had a good time, too,” said Bert. “The hockey game was just the best ever, and so was the drive behind Rusher, even if we did get dumped out.”

  The drive back to Lakeport was enjoyed as much as the drive to Dalton in the morning. On the way the children began to sing, and the voices mingled sweetly with the sounds of the sleigh bells.

  “I shall not forget this outing in a hurry,” said Nan, as she leaped to the step and ran into the house.

  “I shan’t forget it either,” answered Bert. “But it turned out differently for me from what I thought it would.”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  A Quarrel in the Schoolyard

  Three days after the grand sleighing party to Dalton, Nan came down to breakfast looking very pale and worried.

  “What is the trouble, Nan?” questioned her mamma. “What has happened?”

  “Oh, mamma, I scarcely feel like telling,” answered Nan. “I am afraid you’ll laugh at me.”

  “I fancy you had best tell me,” went on Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “I saw the ghost last night—or rather, early this morning.”

  “What, the ghost that I saw?” shouted Bert.

  “I think it must have been the same. Anyway, it was about that high”—Nan raised her hand to her shoulder—“and all pure white.”

  “Oh, Nan!” shivered Freddie. “Don’t want no ghostses!”

  “I don’t want to see it,” put in Flossie, and edged closer to her mamma as if fearful the ghost might walk into the dining room that minute.

  “This is certainly strange,” came from Mr. Bobbsey. “Tell us all about it, Nan.”

  “Oh, papa, you won’t laugh?” and Nan’s face grew very red. “I—I—didn’t think of it then, but it must have been very funny,” she continued.

  “It’s not very funny to see a ghost, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “I don’t mean that—I mean what I did afterward. You see I was asleep and I woke up all of a sudden, for I thought somebody had passed a hand over my face. When I looked out into the room the ghost was standing right in front of the dresser. I could see into the glass and for the minute I thought there were two ghosts.”

  “Oh!” came from Flossie. “Two! Wasn’t that simply dreadful!” And she crouched closer than ever to her mamma.

  “As I was looking, the ghost moved away toward the window and then I saw there was but one. I was so scared I couldn’t call anybody.”

  “I believe you,” said Bert. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  “This is certainly strange,” said Mr. Bobbsey, with a grave look on his face. “What did you do next, Nan.”

  “You—you won’t laugh, pap
a?”

  “No.”

  “I thought of my umbrella. It was resting against the wall, close to the bed. I turned over and reached for the umbrella, but it slipped down and made a terrible noise as it struck the floor. Then I flung the covers over my head.”

  “What did you want the umbrella for?” questioned Freddie, in great wonder. “’Twasn’t raining.”

  “I thought I could—could punch the ghost with it,” faltered Nan.

  At this Bert could hold in no longer, and he set up a shout of laughter, which was instantly repressed by Mr. Bobbsey.

  “Oh, Nan, I’m sorry I laughed,” said her twin brother, when he could speak. “But the idea of your poking at a ghost with an umbrella!”

  “It was more than you tried to do,” said Mr. Bobbsey dryly.

  “That is so.” Bert grew red in the face. “Did you see the ghost after that?” he asked to hide his confusion.

  “No.”

  “Not at all?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “No, mamma. I stayed under the covers for about a minute—just like Bert did—and when I looked the ghost was gone.”

  “I will have to investigate this,” said Mr. Bobbsey seriously. “It is strange that neither I nor your mamma has seen the ghost.”

  “I ain’t seen it,” said Flossie.

  “Don’t want to see it,” piped in Freddie.

  Dinah, in the kitchen, had heard Nan’s story and she was almost scared to death.

  “Dat am de strangest t’ing,” she said to Sam, when he came for his dinner. “Wot yo’ make of it, hey?”

  “Dunno,” said Sam. “Maybe sumbuddy’s gwine to die.”

  The matter was talked over by the Bobbsey family several times that day, and Mr. Bobbsey remained awake nearly all of that night, on the watch for the ghost. The following night Mrs. Bobbsey watched, and then Dinah took her turn, followed by Sam, who sat in the upper hall in a rocking chair, armed with a club. But the ghost failed to show itself, and after a week the excitement died down once more.

  “Perhaps you were dreaming, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “No, I wasn’t dreaming, mamma, and Bert says he wasn’t dreaming either.”

  “It is strange. I cannot understand it at all.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts, mamma?”

  “No, my dear.”

  “But I saw something.”

  “Perhaps it was only a reflection. Sometimes the street lamps throw strange shadows on the walls through the windows.”

  “It wasn’t a shadow,” said Nan; and there the talk ended, for Mrs. Bobbsey knew not what to say to comfort her daughter.

  In some way the news that a ghost had been seen in the Bobbsey house spread throughout the neighborhood, and many came to ask about it. Even the boys and girls talked about it and asked Nan and Bert all manner of questions, the most of which the twins could not answer.

  The “ghost talk,” as it was called, gave Danny Rugg a good chance to annoy both Nan and Bert.

  “Afraid of a ghost! Afraid of a ghost!” he would cry, whenever he saw them. “Oh, my, but ain’t I afraid of a ghost!”

  “I think it is perfectly dreadful,” said Nan one day, on returning from school. Her eyes were red, showing that she had been crying.

  “I’ll ‘ghost’ him, if he yells at us again,” said Bert. “I’m not going to stand it, so there!”

  “But what will you do, Bert?”

  “I’ll fight him, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Oh, Bert, you mustn’t fight.”

  “Then he has got to leave you alone—and leave me alone, too.”

  “If you fight at school, you’ll be expelled.”

  “I don’t care, I’m going to make him mind his own business,” said Bert recklessly.

  Danny Rugg was particularly sore because he had not been invited to Grace Lavine’s party. Of all the boys in that neighborhood he was the only one left out, and he fancied it was Nan and Bert’s fault.

  “They don’t like me and they are setting everybody against me,” he thought. “I shan’t stand it, not me!”

  Two days later he followed Bert into the schoolyard, in which a large number of boys were playing.

  “Hullo! how’s the ghost?” he cried. “Is it still living at your house?”

  “You be still about that ghost, Danny Rugg!” cried Bert, with flashing eyes.

  “Oh, but wouldn’t I like to have a house with a ghost,” went on Danny tantalizingly. “And a sister who was afraid of it!”

  “Will you be still, or not?”

  “Why should I be still? You’ve got the ghost, haven’t you? And Nan is scared to death of it, isn’t she?”

  “No, she isn’t.”

  “Yes, she is, and so are you and all the rest of the family.” And then Danny set up his old shout: “Afraid of a ghost! Afraid of a ghost!”

  Some of the other boys followed suit and soon a dozen or more were crying, “Afraid of a ghost!” as loudly as they could.

  Bert grew very pale and his breath came thickly. He watched Danny and when he came closer caught him by the arm.

  “Let go!” cried the big boy roughly.

  “I want you to stop calling like that.”

  “I shan’t stop.”

  “I say you will!”

  Bert had hardly spoken when Danny struck at him and hit him in the arm. Then Bert struck out in return and hit Danny in the chin. A dozen or more blows followed in quick succession. One struck Bert in the eye and blackened that organ, and another reached Danny’s nose and made it bleed. Then the two boys clinched and rolled over on the schoolyard pavement.

  “A fight! A fight!” came from those looking on, and this was taken up on all sides, while many crowded forward to see what was going on.

  The school principal, Mr. Tetlow, was just entering the school at the time. Hearing the cry he ran around into the yard.

  “Boys! boys! what does this mean?” he demanded, and forced his way through the crowd to where Bert and Danny lay, still pummeling each other. “Stand up at once and behave yourselves,” and reaching down, he caught each by the collar and dragged him to his feet.

  CHAPTER XIX

  Nan’s Plea

  Bert’s heart sank when he saw that it was the school principal who held him by the collar. He remembered what Nan had said about fighting and being expelled.

  “It was Bert Bobbsey’s fault,” blustered Danny, wiping his bleeding nose on his sleeve.

  “No, it wasn’t,” answered Bert quickly. “It was his fault.”

  “I say it was your fault!” shouted Danny. “He started the fight, Mr. Tetlow.”

  “He struck first,” went on Bert undauntedly.

  “He caught me by the arm and wouldn’t let me go,” came from Danny.

  “I told him to keep still,” explained Bert. “He was calling, ‘Afraid of a ghost!’ at me and I don’t like it. And he said my sister Nan was afraid of it, too.”

  “Both of you march up to my office,” said Mr. Tetlow sternly. “And remain there until I come.”

  “My nose is bleeding,” whined Danny.

  “You may go and wash your nose first,” said the principal.

  With a heart that was exceedingly heavy Bert entered the school and made his way to the principal’s office. No one was there, and he sank on a chair in a corner. He heard the bells ring and heard the pupils enter the school and go to their various classrooms.

  “If I am sent home, what will mamma and papa say?” he thought dismally. He had never yet been sent home for misconduct, and the very idea filled him with nameless dread.

  His eye hurt him not a little, but to this he just then paid no attention. He was wondering what Mr. Tetlow would have to say when he came.

  Presently the door opened and Danny shuffled in, a wet and bloody handkerchief held to his nose. He sat down on the opposite side of the office, and for several minutes nothing was said by either of the boys.

  “I suppose you are going to try to get me into t
rouble,” said Danny at length.

  “You’re trying to get me into trouble,” returned Bert. “I didn’t start the quarrel, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know nothing of the kind, Bert Bobbsey! If you say I started the fight—I’ll—I’ll—tell something more about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “What can you tell?”

  “You know well enough. Mr. Ringley hasn’t forgotten about his broken window.”

  “Well, you broke that, I didn’t.”

  “Humph! maybe I can prove that you broke it.”

  “Danny Rugg, what do you mean?” exclaimed Bert. “You know I had nothing to do with that broken window.”

  The big boy was about to say something more in reply when Mr. Tetlow entered the office.

  “Boys,” said he abruptly, “this is a disgraceful affair. I thought both of you knew better than to fight. It is setting a very bad example to the rest of the scholars. I shall have to punish you both severely.”

  Mr. Tetlow paused and Bert’s heart leaped into his throat. What if he should be expelled? The very thought of it made him shiver.

  “I have made a number of inquiries of the other pupils, and I find that you, Danny, started the quarrel. You raised the cry of ‘Afraid of a ghost!’ when you had no right to do so, and when Bert caught you by the arm and told you to stop you struck him. Is this true?”

  “I—I—he hit me in the chin. I told him to let me go.”

  “He struck me first, Mr. Tetlow,” put in Bert. “I am sure all of the boys will say the same.”

  “Hem! Bert, you can go to your classroom. I will talk to you after school this afternoon.”

  Somewhat relieved Bert left the office and walked to the classroom, where the other pupils eyed him curiously. It was hard work to put his mind on his lessons, but he did his best, for he did not wish to miss in any of them and thus make matters worse.

  “What did the principal do?” whispered the boy who sat next to him.

  “Hasn’t done anything yet,” whispered Bert in return.

  “It was Danny’s fault,” went on the boy. “We’ll stick by you.”

  At noontime Bert walked home with Nan, feeling very much downcast.