“And I’m awfully glad you came,” Freddie told Aunt Sarah, when she stopped kissing him.
“But we cannot ride in that little cart,” Aunt Sarah said, as Bert offered to help her in.
“Oh, yes, you can,” Bert assured her. “These donkeys are very strong, and so is the cart. Put your satchel right in here,” and he shoved the valise up in front, under the seat.
“But we have a basket of peaches somewhere,” said Aunt Sarah. “They came in the baggage car.”
“Oh goody! goody!” cried Freddie, clapping his little brown hands. “Let’s get them.”
“No, we had better have them sent over,” Bert insisted, knowing that the basket would take up too much room, also that Freddie might want to sample the peaches first, and so make trouble in the small cart. Much against his will the little fellow left the peaches, and started off for the cliffs.
The girls, Dorothy, Nellie, and Nan, were waiting at the driveway, and all shouted a welcome to the people from Meadow Brook.
“You just came in time,” declared Dorothy. “We are going to have a boat carnival tomorrow, and they expect it will be lovely this year.”
Aunt Emily and Mrs. Bobbsey met the others now, and extended such a hearty welcome, there could be no mistaking how pleased they all were to see Harry and Aunt Sarah. As soon as Harry had a chance to lay his traveling things aside Bert and Freddie began showing him around.
“Come on down to the lake, first,” Bert insisted. “Hal Bingham may have his canoe out. He’s a fine fellow, and we have splendid times together.”
“And you’ll see my duck, Downy,” said Freddie. “Oh, he’s growed so big—he’s just like a turkey.”
Harry thought Downy must be a odd duck if he looked that way, but, of course, he did not question Freddie’s description.
“Here, Downy, Downy!” called Freddie, as they came to the little stream where the duck always swam around. But there was no duck to be seen.
“Where is he?” Freddie asked, anxiously.
“Maybe back of some stones,” ventured Harry. Then he and Bert joined in the search, but no duck was to be found.
“That’s strange,” Bert reflected. “He’s always around here.”
“Where does the lake run to?” Harry inquired.
“Into the ocean,” answered Bert; “but Downy never goes far. There’s Hal now. We’ll get in his boat and see if we can find the duck.”
Hal, seeing his friends, rowed in to the shore with his father’s new rowboat that he was just trying.
“We have lost Freddie’s duck,” said Bert. “Have you seen him anywhere?”
“No, I just came out,” replied Hal. “But get in and we’ll go look for him.”
“This is my Cousin Harry I told you about,” said Bert, introducing Harry, and the two boys greeted each other, cordially.
All four got into the boat, and Harry took care of Freddie while the other boys rowed.
“Oh. I’m afraid someone has stoled Downy,” cried Freddie, “and maybe they’ll make—make—pudding out of him.”
“No danger,” said Hal, laughing. “No one around here would touch your duck. But he might have gotten curious to see the ocean. He certainly doesn’t seem to be around here.”
The boys had reached the line where the little lake went in a tunnel under a road, and then opened out into the ocean.
“We’ll have to leave the boat here,” said Hal, “and go and ask people if Downy came down this way.”
Tying up the boat to a stake, the boys crossed the bridge, and made their way through the crowd of bathers down to the waves.
“Oh, oh!” screamed Freddie. “I see him! There he is!” and sure enough, there was Downy, like a tiny speck, rolling up and down on the waves, evidently having a fine swim, and not being in the least alarmed at the mountains of water that came rolling in.
“Oh, how can we get him?” cried Freddie, nearly running into the water in his excitement.
“I don’t know,” Hal admitted. “He’s pretty far out.”
Just then a life-saver came along. Freddie always insisted the life-guards were not white people, because they were so awfully browned from the sun, and really, this one looked like some foreigner, for he was almost black.
“What’s the trouble?” he asked, seeing Freddie’s distress.
“Oh, Downy is gone!” cried the little fellow in tears now.
“Gone!” exclaimed the guard, thinking Downy was some boy who had swam out too far.
“Yes, see him out there,” sobbed Freddie, and before the other boys had a chance to tell the guard that Downy was only a duck, the life-saver was in his boat, and pulling out toward the spot where Freddie said Downy was “downing”!
“There’s someone drowning!” went up the cry all around. Then numbers of men and boys, who had been bathing, plunged into the waves, and followed the life-saver out to the deeper water.
It was useless for Harry, Hal, or Bert to try to explain to anyone about the duck, for the action of the life-saver told a different story. Another guard had come down to the beach now, and was getting his ropes ready, besides opening up the emergency case, that was locked in the boat on the shore.
“Wait till they find out,” whispered Hal to Bert, watching the guard in the boat nearing the white speck on the waves. It was a long ways out, but the boys could see the guard stop rowing.
“He’s got him,” shouted the crowd, also seeing the guard pick something out of the water. “I guess he had to lay him in the bottom of the boat.”
“Maybe he’s dead!” the people said, still believing the life-saver had been after some unfortunate swimmer.
“Oh, he’s got him! He’s got him!” cried Freddie, joyfully, still keeping up the mistake for the sightseers.
As the guard in the boat had his back to shore, and pulled in that way, even his companion on land had not yet discovered his mistake, and he waited to help revive whoever lay in the bottom of the boat.
The crowd pressed around so closely now that Freddie’s toes were painfully trampled upon.
“He’s mine,” cried the little fellow. “Let me have him.”
“It’s his brother,” whispered a sympathetic boy, almost in tears. “Let him get over by the boat,” and so the crowd made room for Freddie, as the life-saver pulled up on the beach.
The people held their breath.
“He’s dead!” insisted a number, when there was no move in the bottom of the boat. Then the guard stooped down and brought up—Downy!
“Only a duck!” screamed all the boys in the crowd, while the other life-saver laughed heartily over his preparations to restore a duck to consciousness.
“He’s mine! He’s mine!” insisted Freddie, as the life-saver fondled the pretty white duck, and the crowd cheered.
“Yes, he does belong to my little brother,” Bert said, “and he didn’t mean to fool you at all. It was just a mistake,” the older brother apologized.
“Oh, I know that,” laughed the guard. “But when we think there is any danger we don’t wait for particulars. He’s a very pretty duck all the same, and a fine swimmer, and I’m glad I got him for the little fellow, for likely he would have kept on straight out to smooth water. Then he would never have tried to get back.”
The guard now handed Downy over to his young owner, and without further remarks than “Thank you,” Freddie started off through the crowd, while everybody wanted to see the wonderful duck. The joke caused no end of fun, and it took Harry, Hal, and Bert to save Freddie and Downy from being too roughly treated, by the boys who were over-curious to see both the wonderful duck and the happy owner.
CHAPTER XII
Real Indians
“Now we will have to watch Downy or he will be sure to take that trip again,” said Bert, as they reached home with the enterprising duck.
“We could build a kind of dam across the narrowest part of the lake,” suggested Hal; “kind of a close fence he would not go through. See, over there it is only a little str
eam, about five feet wide. We can easily fence that up. I’ve got lots of material up in our garden house.”
“That would be a good idea,” agreed Bert. “We can put Downy in the barn until we get it built. We won’t take any more chances.” So Downy was shut up in his box, back of the donkey stall, for the rest of the day.
“How far back do these woods run?” Harry asked his companions, he always being interested in acres, as all real country boys are.
“I don’t know,” Hal Bingham answered. “I never felt like going to the end to find out. But they say the Indians had reservations out here not many years ago.”
“Then I’ll bet there are lots of arrow heads and stone hatchets around. Let’s go look. Have we time before dinner, Bert?” Harry asked.
“I guess so,” replied the cousin. “Uncle William’s train does not get in until seven, and we can be back by that time. We’ll have to slip away from Freddie, though. Here he comes. Hide!” and at this the boys got behind things near the donkey house, and Freddie, after calling and looking around, went back to the house without finding the “boy boys.”
“We can cross the lake in my boat,” said Hal, as they left their hiding-places. “Then, we will be right in the woods. I’ll tie the boat on the other side until we come back; no one will touch it.”
“Is there no bridge?” Harry asked.
“Not nearer than the crossings, away down near the ocean beach,” said Bert. “But the boat will be all right. There are no thieves around here.”
It was but a few minutes’ work to paddle across the lake and tie up the canoe on the opposite shore. Hal and Bert started off, feeling they would find something interesting, under Harry’s leadership.
It was quite late in the afternoon, and the thick pines and ferns made the day almost like night, as the boys tramped along.
“Fine big birds around here,” remarked Harry, as the feathered creatures of the ocean darted through the trees, making their way to the lake’s edge.
“Yes, we’re planning for a Thanksgiving shoot,” Hal told him. “We hope, if we make it up, you can come down.”
“I’d like to first-rate,” said Harry. “Hello!” he suddenly exclaimed, “I thought I kicked over a stone hatchet head.”
Instantly the three boys were on their knees searching through the brown pine needles.
“There it is!” declared Harry, picking up a odd-shaped stone. “That’s real Indian—I know. Father has some, but this is the first I was ever lucky enough to find.”
The boys examined the stone. There were strange marks on it, but they were so worn down it was impossible to tell what they might mean.
“What tribe camped here?” asked Harry.
“I don’t know,” answered Hal. “I just heard an old farmer, out Berkley way, talking about the Indians. You see, we only come down here in the summer time. Then we keep so close to the ocean we don’t do much exploring.”
The boys were so interested now they did not notice how dark it was getting. Neither did they notice the turns they were making in the deep woodlands. Now and then a new stone would attract their attention. They would kick it over, pick it up, and if it were of odd shape it would be pocketed for further inspection.
“Say,” said Hal, suddenly, “doesn’t it look like night?” and at that he ran to a clear spot between the trees, where he might see the sky.
“Sure as you live it is night!” he called back to the others. “We better pick the trail back to our canoe, or we may have to become real Indians and camp out here in spite of our appetites.”
Then the boys discovered that the trees were much alike, and there were absolutely no paths to follow.
“Well, there’s where the sun went down, so we must turn our back to that,” advised Hal, as they tramped about, without making any progress toward finding the way home.
What at first seemed to be fun, soon turned out to be a serious matter; for the boys really could not find their way home. Each, in turn, thought he had the right way, but soon found he was mistaken.
“Well, I’ll give up!” said Hal. “To think we could be lost like three babies!”
“Only worse,” added Harry, “for little fellows would cry and someone might help them.”
“Oh! oh! oh! oh! we’re lost! We’re the babes in the woods!” shouted Bert at the top of his voice, joking, yet a little in earnest.
“Let’s build a fire,” suggested Harry. “That’s the way the Indians used to do. When our comrades see the smoke of the fire they will come and rescue us.”
The other boys agreed to follow the chief’s direction. So they set to work. It took some time to get wood together, and to start the fire, but when it was finally lighted, they sat around it and wasted a lot of time. It would have been better had they tried to get out of the woods, for as they waited, it grew darker.
“I wouldn’t mind staying here all night,” drawled Harry, stretching himself out on the dry leaves alongside the fire.
“Well, I’d like supper first,” put in Hal. “We were to have roast duck tonight,” and he smacked his lips.
“What was that!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up.
“A bell, I thought,” whispered Hal, quite frightened.
“Indians!” added Bert. “Oh, take me home!” he wailed, and while he tried to laugh, it was a failure, for he really felt more like crying.
“There it is again. A cow bell!” declared Harry, who could not be mistaken on bells.
“Let’s find the cow and maybe she will then find us,” he suggested, starting off in the direction that the “tink-tink-tink-tink” came from.
“Here she is!” he called, the next moment, as he walked up to a pretty little cow with the bell on her neck. “Now, where do you belong?” Harry asked the cow. “Do you know where the Cliffs are, and how we can get home?”
The cow was evidently hungry for her supper, and bellowed loud and long. Then she rubbed her head against Harry’s sleeve, and started to walk through the dark woods.
“If we follow her she will take us out, all right,” said Harry, and so the three boys willingly started off after the cow.
Just as Harry had said, she made her way to a path, then the rest of the way was clear.
“Hurrah!” shouted Hal, “I smell supper already,” and now, at the end of the path, an opening in the trees showed a few scattered houses.
“Why, we are away outside of Berkley,” went on Hal. “Now, we will have a long tramp home, but I’m glad even at that, for a night under the trees was not a pleasant prospect.”
“We must take this cow home first,” said Harry, with a farmer’s instinct. “Where do you suppose she belongs?”
“We might try that house first,” suggested Bert, pointing to a cottage with a small barn, a little way from the wood.
“Come, Cush,” said Harry, to the strange cow, and the animal obediently walked along.
There was no need to make inquiries, for outside of the house a little woman met them.
“Oh, you’ve found her!” she began. “Well, my husband was just going to the pound, for that old miser of a pound master takes a cow in every chance he gets, just for the fine. Come, Daisy, you’re hungry,” and she patted the cow affectionately. “Now, young men, I’m obliged to you, and you have saved a poor man a day’s pay, for that is just what the fine would be. If you will accept a pail of milk each, I have the cans, and would be glad to give you each a quart. You might have berries for dinner,” she finished.
“We would be very glad of the milk,” spoke up Harry, promptly, always wide awake and polite when there was a question that concerned farmers.
“Do you live far?” asked the woman.
“Only at the Cliffs,” said Harry. “We will soon he home now. But we were lost until your cow found us. She brought us here, or we would be in the woods yet.”
“Well, I do declare!” laughed the little woman, filling each of three pails from the fresh milk, that stood on a bench, under the kitchen wi
ndow. “Now, our man goes right by your house to-morrow morning, and if you leave the pails outside he will get them. Maybe your mothers might like some fresh milk, or buttermilk, or fresh eggs, or new butter?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” said Hal. “We have hard work to get fresh stuff; they seem to send it all to the hotels. I’ll let the man know when he comes for the pails.”
“Thank you, thank you,” replied the little woman, “and much obliged for bringing Daisy home. If you ever want a drink of milk, and are out this way, just knock at my door and I’ll see you don’t go away thirsty.”
After more thanks on both sides, the lost boys started homeward, like a milk brigade, each with his bright tin pail of sweet new milk in his hand.
CHAPTER XIII
The Boat Carnival
“It didn’t seem right to take all this milk,” remarked Hal, as the three boys made their way in the dark, along the ocean road.
“But we would have offended the lady had we refused,” said Harry. “Besides, we may be able to get her good customers by giving out the samples,” he went on. “I’m sure it is good milk, for the place was clean, and that cow we found, or that found us, was a real Jersey.”
The other boys did not attempt to question Harry’s right to give expert views where cows and milk were concerned; so they made their way along without further comment.
“I suppose our folks will think we are lost,” ventured Hal.
“Then they will think right,” admitted Bert, “for that was just what we were, lost.”
Crossing the bridge, the boys could hear voices.
“That’s father,” declared Hal. Then they listened.
“And that’s Uncle William,” said Bert, as another voice reached them.
“Gracious! I’m sorry this happened the first day I came,” spoke up Harry, realizing that the other boys would not have gone into the deep woods if he had not acted as leader.
“Here we are!” called Hal.
“Hello there! That you, Hal?” came a call.
“Yes; we’re coming,” Hal answered, and the lost boys quickened their steps, as much as the pails of milk allowed.
Presently Uncle William and Mr. Bingham came up, and were so glad to find that Hal, Harry, and Bert were safe, they scarcely required any explanation for the delay in getting home. Of course, both men had been boys themselves, and well remembered how easy it was to get lost, and be late reaching home.
The Bobbsey Twins Megapack Page 30