“We put them up there out of the way,” finished Nan, “so that nothing more can happen to them.”
The afternoon was wearing out now, and the strong summer sun shrunk into thin strips through the trees, while the train dashed along. As the ocean air came in the windows, the long line of woodland melted into pretty little streams, that make their way in patches for many miles from the ocean front. “Like ‘Baby Waters’” Nan said, “just growing out from the ocean, and getting a little bit bigger every year.”
“Won’t we soon be there?” asked Freddie, for long journeys are always tiresome, especially to a little boy accustomed to many changes in the day’s play.
“One hour more,” said Mr. Bobbsey, consulting his watch.
“Let’s have a game of ball, Nan?” suggested Bert, who never traveled without a tennis ball in his pocket.
“How could we?” the sister inquired.
“Easily,” said Bert. “We’ll make up a new kind of game. We will start in the middle of the car, at the two center seats, and each move a seat away at every catch. Then, whoever misses first must go back to center again, and the one that gets to the end first, wins.”
“All right,” agreed Nan, who always enjoyed her twin brother’s games. “We will call it Railroad Tennis.”
Just as soon as Nan and Bert took their places, the other passengers became very much interested. There is such a monotony on trains that the sports the Bobbseys introduced were welcome indeed.
We do not like to seem proud, but certainly these twins did look pretty. Nan with her fine back eyes and red cheeks, and Bert just matching her; only his hair curled around, while hers fell down. Their interest in Railroad Tennis made their faces all the prettier, and no wonder the people watched them so closely.
Freddie was made umpire, to keep him out of a more active part, because he might do damage with a ball in a train, his mother said; so, as Nan and Bert passed the ball, he called,—his father prompting him:
“Ball one!”
“Ball two!”
“Ball three!”
Bert jerked with a sudden jolt of the train and missed.
“Striker’s out!” called the umpire, while everybody laughed because the boy had missed first.
Then Bert had to go all the way back to center, while Nan was four seats down.
Three more balls were passed, then Nan missed.
“I shouldn’t have to go all the way back for the miss,” protested Nan. “You went three seats back, so I’ll go three back.”
This was agreed to by the umpire, and the game continued.
A smooth stretch of road gave a good chance for catching, and both sister and brother kept moving toward the doors now, with three points “to the good” for Nan, as a big boy said.
Who would miss now? Everybody waited to see. The train struck a curve! Bert threw a wild ball and Nan missed it.
“Foul ball!” called the umpire, and Bert did not dispute it.
Then Nan delivered the ball.
“Oh, mercy me!” shrieked the old lady, who had thrown the handbag at Downy, the duck, “my glasses!” and there, upon the floor, lay the pieces. Nan’s ball had hit the lady right in the glasses, and it was very lucky they did not break until they came in contact with the floor.
“I’m so sorry!” Nan faltered. “The car jerked so I could not keep it.”
“Never mind, my dear,” answered the nice old lady, “I just enjoyed that game as much as you did, and if I hadn’t stuck my eyes out so, they would not have met your ball. So, it’s all right. I have another pair in my bag.”
So the game ended with the accident, for it was now time to gather up the baggage for the last stop.
CHAPTER IV
Night in A Barn
“Beach Junction! All off for the Junction!” called the train men, while the Bobbseys and Mrs. Manily hurried out to the small station, where numbers of carriages waited to take passengers to their cottages on the cliffs or by the sea.
“Sure we haven’t forgotten anything?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, taking a hasty inventory of the hand baggage.
“Bert’s got Snoop and I’ve got Downy,” answered Freddie, as if the animals were all that counted.
“And I’ve got my hatbox and flowers,” added Nan.
“And I have my ferns,” said little Flossie.
“I guess we’re all here this time,” Mr. Bobbsey finished, for nothing at all seemed to be missing.
It was almost nightfall, and the beautiful glow of an ocean sunset rested over the place. At the rear of the station an aged stage driver sat nodding on his turnout. The stage coach was an “old timer,” and had carried many a merry party of sightseers through the sandy roads of Oceanport and Sunset Beach, while Hank, the driver, called out all spots of interest along the way. And Hank had a way of making things interesting.
“Pike’s Peak,” he would call out for Cliff Hill.
“The Giant’s Causeway,” he would announce for Rocky Turn.
And so Hank was a very popular stage driver, and never had to look for trade—it always came to him.
“That’s our coach,” said Mr. Bobbsey, espying Hank. “Hello there! Going to the beach?” he called to the sleepy driver.
“That’s for you to say,” replied Hank, straightening up.
“Could we get to Ocean Cliff—Minturn’s place—before dark?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, noticing how rickety the old stagecoach was.
“Can’t promise,” answered Hank, “but you can just pile in and we’ll try it.”
There was no choice, so the party “piled” into the carryall.
“Isn’t this fun?” remarked Mrs. Manily, taking her seat up under the front window. “It’s like going on a May ride.”
“I’m afraid it will be a moonlight ride at this rate,” laughed Mr. Bobbsey, as the stagecoach started to rattle on. Freddie wanted to sit in front with Hank but Mrs. Bobbsey thought it safer inside, for, indeed, the ride was risky enough, inside or out. As they joggled on the noise of the wheels grew louder and louder, until our friends could only make themselves heard by screaming at each other.
“Night is coming,” called Mrs. Bobbsey, and Dinah said: “Suah ’nough we be out in de night dis time.”
It seemed as if the old horses wanted to stand still, they moved so slowly, and the old wagon creaked and cracked until Hank, himself, turned round, looked in the window, and shouted:
“All right there?”
“Guess so,” called back Mr. Bobbsey, “but we don’t see the ocean yet.”
“Oh, we’ll get there,” drawled Hank, lazily.
“We should have gone all the way by train,” declared Mrs. Bobbsey, in alarm, as the stage gave one squeak louder than the others.
“Haven’t you got any lanterns?” shouted Mr. Bobbsey to Hank, for it was pitch-dark now.
“Never use one,” answered the driver. “When it’s good and dark the moon will come up, but we’ll be there ‘fore that. Get ’long there, Doll!” he called to one horse. “Go ’long, Kit!” he urged the other.
The horses did move a little faster at that, then suddenly something snapped and the horses turned to one side.
“Whoa! Whoa!” called Hank, jerking on the reins. But it was too late! The stage coach was in a hole! Several screamed.
“Sit still!” called Mr. Bobbsey to the excited party. “It’s only a broken shaft and the coach can’t upset now.”
Flossie began to cry. It was so dark and black in that hole.
Hank looked at the broken wagon.
“Well, we’re done now,” he announced, with as little concern as if the party had been safely landed on Aunt Emily’s piazza, instead of in a hole on the roadside.
“Do you mean to say you can’t fix it up?” Mr. Bobbsey almost gasped.
“Not till I get the stage to the blacksmith’s,” replied Hank.
“Then, what are we going to do?” Mr. Bobbsey asked, impatiently.
“Well, there’s an empty barn over the
re,” Hank answered. “The best thing you can do is pitch your tent there till I get back with another wagon.”
“Barn!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey.
“How long will it take you to get a wagon?” demanded Mr. Bobbsey.
“Not long,” said Hank, sprucing up a trifle. “You just get yourselves comfortable in that there barn. I’ll get the coach to one side, and take a horse down to Sterritt’s. He’ll let me have a horse and a wagon, and I’ll be back as soon as I kin make it.”
“There seems nothing else to do,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “We may as well make the best of it.”
“Why, yes,” Mrs. Manily spoke up, “we can pretend we are having a barn dance.” And she smiled, faintly.
Nevertheless, it was not very jolly to make their way to the barn in the dark. Dinah had to carry Freddie, he was so sleepy; Mrs. Manily took good care of Flossie. But, of course, there was the duck and the cat, that could not be very safely left in the broken-down stagecoach.
“Say, papa!” Bert exclaimed, suddenly, “I saw an old lantern up under the seat in that stagecoach. Maybe it has some oil in it. I’ll go back and see.”
“All right, son,” replied the father, “we won’t get far ahead of you.” And while Bert made his way back to the wagon, the others bumped up and down through the fields that led to the vacant barn.
There was no house within sight. The barn belonged to a house up the road that the owners had not moved into that season.
“I got one!” called Bert, running up from the road. “This lantern has oil in, I can hear it rattle. Have you a match, pa?”
Mr. Bobbsey had, and when the lantern had been lighted, Bert marched on ahead of the party, swinging it in real signal fashion.
“You ought to be a brakeman,” Nan told her twin brother, at which remark Bert swung his light above his head and made all sorts of funny railroad gestures.
The barn door was found unlocked, and excepting for the awful stillness about, it was not really so bad to find refuge in a good, clean place like that, for outside it was very damp—almost wet with the ocean spray. Mr. Bobbsey found seats for all, and with the big carriage doors swung open, the party sat and listened for every sound that might mean the return of the stage driver.
“Come, Freddie chile,” said Dinah, “put yer head down on Dinah’s lap. She won’t let nothin’ tech you. An’ youse kin jest go to sleep if youse a mind ter. I’se a-watchin’ out.”
The invitation was welcome to the tired little youngster, and it was not long before he had followed Dinah’s invitation.
Next, Flossie cuddled up in Mrs. Manily’s arms and stopped thinking for a while.
“It is awfully lonely,” whispered Nan, to her mother, “I do wish that man would come back.”
“So do I,” agreed the mother. “This is not a very comfortable hotel, especially as we are all tired out from a day’s journey.”
“What was that?” asked Bert, as a strange sound, like a howl, was heard.
“A dog,” lightly answered the father.
“I don’t think so,” said Bert. “Listen!”
“Oh!” cried Flossie, starting up and clinging closer to Mrs. Manily, “I’m just scared to death!”
“Dinah, I want to go home,” cried Freddie. “Take me right straight home.”
“Hush, children, you are safe,” insisted their mother. “The stage driver will be back in a few minutes.”
“But what is that funny noise?” asked Freddie. “It ain’t no cow, nor no dog.”
The strange “Whoo-oo-oo” came louder each time. It went up and down like a scale, and “left a hole in the air,” Bert declared.
“It’s an owl!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, and she was right, for up in the abandoned hay loft the strange old birds had found a quiet place, and had not been disturbed before by visitors.
“Let’s get after them,” proposed Bert, with lantern in hand.
“You would have a odd hunt,” his father told him; “I guess you had better not think of it. Hey, there’s a wagon! I guess Hank is coming back to us,” and the welcome sound of wheels on the road brought the party to their feet again.
“Hello there!” called Hank. “Here you are. Come along now, we’ll make it this time.”
It did not take the Bobbseys long to reach the roadside and there they found Hank with a big farm wagon. The seats were made of boards, and there was nothing to hold on to but the edge of the boards.
But the prospect of getting to Aunt Emily’s at last made up for all their inconveniences, and when finally Hank pulled the reins again, our friends gave a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER V
A Strange Stage Driver
“I reckon I’ll have to make another trip to get that old coach down to the shop,” growled the stage driver, as he tried to hurry the horses, Kit and Doll, along.
“I hardly think it is worth moving,” Mr. Bobbsey said, feeling somewhat indignant that a hackman should impose upon his passengers by risking their lives in such a broken-down wagon.
“Not worth it? Wall! I guess Hank don’t go back on the old coach like that. Why, a little grease and a few bolts will put that rig in tip-top order.” And he never made the slightest excuse for the troubles he had brought upon the Bobbseys.
“Oh, my!” cried Nan, “my hatbox! Bert you have put your foot right into my best hat!”
“Couldn’t help it,” answered the brother; “I either had to go through your box or go out of the back of this wagon, when that seat slipped,” and he tried to adjust the board that had fallen into the wagon.
“Land sakes alive!” exclaimed Dinah. “Say, you driver man there!” she called in real earnest, “ef you doan go a little carefuler wit dis yere wagon you’ll be spilling us all out. I just caught dat cat’s box a-sliding, and lan’ only knows how dat poor little Downy duck is, way down under dat old board.”
“Hold on tight,” replied Hank, as if the whole thing were a joke, and his wagon had the privilege of a toboggan slide.
“My!” sighed Mrs. Bobbsey, putting her arms closer about Flossie, “I hope nothing more happens.”
“I am sure we are all right now,” Mrs. Manily assured her. “The road is broad and smooth here, and it can’t be far to the beach.”
“Here comes a carriage,” said Bert, as two pretty coach lights flashed through the trees.
“Hello there!” called someone from the carriage.
“Uncle William!” Nan almost screamed, and the next minute the carriage drew up alongside the wagon.
“Well, I declare,” said Uncle William Minturn, jumping front his seat, and beginning to help the stranded party.
“We are all here,” began Mr. Bobbsey, “but it was hard work to keep ourselves together.”
“Oh, Uncle William,” cried Freddie, “put me in your carriage. This one is breakin’ down every minute.”
“Come right along, my boy. I’ll fix you up first,” declared the uncle, giving his little nephew a good hug as he placed him on the comfortable cushions inside the big carriage.
There was not much chance for greetings as everybody was too anxious to get out of the old wagon. So, when all the boxes had been carefully put outside with the driver, and all the passengers had taken their places on the long side seats (it was one of those large side-seated carriages that Uncle William had brought, knowing he would have a big party to carry), then with a sigh of relief Mrs. Bobbsey attempted to tell something of their experiences.
“But how did you know where we were?” Bert asked.
“We had been waiting for you since four o’clock,” replied Uncle William. “Then I found out that the train was late, and we waited some more. But when it came to be night and you had not arrived, I set out looking for you. I went to the Junction first, and the agent there told me you had gone in Hank’s stage. I happened to be near enough to the livery stable to hear some fellows talking about Hank’s breakdown, with a big party aboard. I knew then what had happened, and sent Dorothy home,—she had be
en out most of the afternoon waiting—got this carryall, and here we are,” and Uncle William only had to hint “hurry up” to his horses and away they went.
“Oh, we did have the awfulest time,” insisted Freddie.
“I feel as if we hadn’t seen a house in a whole year,” sighed little Flossie.
“And we only left Meadow Brook this morning,” added Nan. “It does seem much longer than a day since we started.”
“Well, you will be in Aunt Emily’s arms in about two minutes now,” declared Uncle William, as through the trees the lights from Ocean Cliff, the Minturn cottage, could now be seen.
“Hello! Hello!” called voices from the veranda.
“Aunt Emily and Dorothy!” exclaimed Bert, and called back to them:
“Here we come! Here we are!” and the wagon turned in to the broad steps at the side of the veranda.
“I’ve been worried to death,” declared Aunt Emily, as she began kissing the girls.
“We have brought company,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, introducing Mrs. Manily, “and I don’t know what we should have done in all our troubles if she had not been along to cheer us up.”
“We are delighted to have you,” said Aunt Emily to Mrs. Manily, while they all made their way indoors.
“Oh, Nan!” cried Dorothy, hugging her cousin as tightly as ever she could, “I thought you would never come!”
“We were an awfully long time getting here,” Nan answered, returning her cousin’s caress, “but we had so many accidents.”
“Nothing happened to your appetites, I hope,” laughed Uncle William, as the dining-room doors were swung open and a table laden with good things came into sight.
“I think I could eat,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, then the mechanical piano player was started, and the party made their way to the dining room.
Uncle William took Mrs. Manily to her place, as she was a stranger; Bert sat between Dorothy and Nan, Mr. Bobbsey looked after Aunt Emily, and Mr. Jack Burnet, a friend of Uncle William, who had been spending the evening at the cottage, escorted Mrs. Bobbsey to her place.
“Come, Flossie, my dear, you see I have gotten a tall chair for you,” said Aunt Emily, and Flossie was made comfortable in one of those “between” chairs, higher than the others, and not as high as a baby’s.
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