The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “We can’t go fishing if we can’t find any bugs for to bait the hooks,” said Freddie, tears in his blue eyes.

  “Never mind,” his father answered. “The tin bugs wouldn’t have caught many fish, and if we don’t find your toys I’ll get you some more when I go to town. You and Bert had better keep on digging the worms, I guess. They’re better for fish.”

  “And I’ll pick ’em up,” offered Flossie. She was an odd little child in some ways, not afraid of bugs and “crawly things.”

  It did not take Freddie or Flossie long to forget what had made them unhappy, and though for a time they were sorry about the loss of the bugs, they soon became so interested in helping Bert dig for worms that they were quite jolly again.

  “Here’s an awful fat one, Flossie!” cried Freddie. “Pick that one up just terribly careful-like. I’m going to save him for my hook, and maybe I’ll get the biggest fish of all.”

  “How’ll you know where to find this one when you want it, I’d like to know, Freddie Bobbsey?” returned his sister.

  “Tie a blue ribbon on it,” suggested Bert.

  “Yes, we might,” said Flossie slowly. “Maybe Nan has a ribbon. I’ll ask.”

  Bert laughed and said:

  “I was just fooling, little fat fairy. I don’t believe you can do that.”

  “I don’t see why,” dissented Freddie. “We can try, anyway. Here, I have a red string in my pocket. That’ll do better than a ribbon.”

  He pulled out the string, and the two smaller children tied it around the middle of the earthworm, but, much to Flossie’s dismay, they tied it so tightly that it almost cut the worm in two.

  “Oh, Freddie Bobbsey! You fix that right away!” cried his twin sister, and he loosened the string.

  Pretty soon Bert again dropped the spade he had taken up and said:

  “There, Freddie, you dig awhile. I want to see about the lines and poles. We have almost worms enough.”

  Freddie was glad to do this, and Flossie was eager to pick up the crawling creatures. Bert went back to the tent to get out the poles, lines and hooks. There he found his father and mother looking at the broken box that had held the tin bugs.

  “How do you think it became smashed?” Mrs. Bobbsey asked.

  “I don’t know,” answered her husband. “It looks as though some one had stepped on it.”

  “But who could do that? Flossie and Freddie think so much of the bugs that they take good care of them, and they wouldn’t put them where they would be stepped on. Do you suppose any of the men that have been helping set up the camp could have done it?”

  “I hardly think so. If they did they wouldn’t take the bugs away, and that is what has happened. It seems to me as though the box had been broken so the bugs could be taken out. For the cover fits on tightly, and it often sticks. Freddie and Flossie often come to me to open it for them. Probably whoever tried to open it could not do so at first, and then stepped on it enough to crack it open without damaging the tin bugs inside.”

  “But who would do such a thing?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, and Bert found himself asking, in his mind, the same question.

  “That’s something we’ll have to find out,” said Mr. Bobbsey, and neither of them noticed Bert, who, by this time, was inside the tent where the fishing things were kept.

  “Could it be the gypsies?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “Well, I don’t altogether believe all that talk about the gypsies,” said Mr. Bobbsey slowly. “I think they may have taken Helen’s talking doll, but that’s all. However, if there are any gypsies here on the island, and if they saw those gay red, yellow and spotted bugs of Flossie’s and Freddie’s they might have taken them. They like those colors, and the crawling bugs might amuse them.”

  “Oh, but if there are gypsies on this island I don’t want to stay camping here! They might take away some of the children—Flossie or Freddie! Nan and Bert are too old.”

  “Nonsense!” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “There are no gypsies here, and you needn’t worry.”

  “All the same I wish Snap were here with us,” went on Mrs. Bobbsey. “I’d feel safer if I knew the dog were with the children all the while, as he was before.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t come back, or if we don’t find him soon, I’ll get another dog,” promised Mr. Bobbsey. “Now don’t worry about gypsies. Maybe this broken box was only an accident.”

  “But what about the shadow you saw last night. Maybe that was a—”

  Just then Dinah came waddling from the cook tent toward the large one where Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey stood. Bert could see and hear all that went on.

  “Mrs. Bobbsey, did yo’ take dat big piece ob bacon I cut a few slices off of last night?” asked the cook.

  “Why, no, Dinah, I didn’t,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey. “Why do you ask?”

  “’Cause as how dat bacon’s gone. It’s done gone complete! I hung it inside de tent, up high where none ob dem chatterin’ squirrels or chipmunks could git it, an’ now, when I want some fo’ dinnah it’s gone. Maybe de chilluns took some fo’ dere fish hooks, ’cause I done heah Bert talk about bait.”

  “No, I didn’t take it,” answered Bert himself, stepping out of the small tent where the poles, oars for the boats and other camp articles were kept. “We’ve got worms enough for bait.”

  “Bacon gone, eh?” said Mr. Bobbsey. Then, as he looked at his wife and glanced at Bert, he went on: “Well, maybe a stray dog jumped up and got it. Some dogs can jump very high, Dinah. Snap could, I remember.”

  “Good land ob massy! Ef I t’ought dat ‘er Snap had come back t’ mah honey lambs I’d be so glad I wouldn’t mind de bacon,” said the fat cook. “But I don’t reckon no dog took it, Mistah Bobbsey. I t’ink it war’ a two-legged robber dat—”

  “Never mind that now, Dinah!” said Mrs. Bobbsey quickly. “Come here and finish making the beds, I want to walk down to the lake with Mr. Bobbsey,” and she nodded to her husband. “One piece of bacon won’t matter,” she went on. “We have plenty more.”

  “Yes, I knows dat,” said Dinah, who was puzzled. “But if no ‘count folks is gwine t’ come t’ dish yeah camp an’ walk off wif vittles dat way—”

  “It’s time it was stopped, isn’t it?” asked Bert, as he walked toward the fat cook. “Say, Dinah,” he went on as he saw his father and mother stroll down to the shore of the lake, “did you hear an odd noise in the night?”

  “Did I heah an odd noise around de camp las’ night?” repeated Dinah. “Well, I suah did, honey lamb! I done heard a owl hoot, an’ dat’s a suah sign ob bad luck.”

  “No, I don’t mean that kind of noise, Dinah. Did you hear anything else?”

  “Yas. I done heah mah man Sam snore suffin’ terrible! It were ’most like thunder. Did you all heah dat, honey lamb?”

  “No, I didn’t hear that, Dinah,” answered Bert, with a laugh. “But something or somebody brushed past our tent in the night, and woke up Freddie. Then my father went outside and saw some one sneaking away.”

  “Oh, mah good lan’ ob massy!” cried Dinah. “Dat’s where mah bacon went to! Wait until I tells your fader, honey lamb, an’—”

  “No! Hold on! Wait a minute!” cried Bert, catching Dinah by her apron as she was hurrying away. “Dad knows it already, and so does mother. I guess they don’t want to scare us children, but I’m not afraid. I‘ll tell you what I think, Dinah.”

  “What’s dat?”

  “I think there are gypsies on this island, and that they’re after Flossie and Freddie!”

  “Oh, mah goodness! Oh, mah goodness! Oh, mah goodness!” cried Dinah quickly. It seemed she could think of nothing else to say.

  “But I’m not afraid,” went on Bert. “We’ll just have to keep a good watch, and not let those two little twins out of our sight. Don’t tell my mother or father that you know this. You and I and Nan will keep watch.”

  “Dat’s what we will!” exclaimed the fat cook. “An’ if dem gypsies lays so much as a fingernail on m
ah honey lambs I’ll pull de gold rings offen dere ears an’ frow dish water on ’em—dat’s what I’ll do to dem gypsies!”

  “I wish we had Snap back, or that Whisker were a dog instead of a goat,” said Bert. “But maybe if I let Whisker roam around the camp at night he’ll be as good as a watch dog.”

  “He can butt wif his horns,” said Dinah.

  “Yes, and he can make a bleating noise. That’s what I’ll do,” said Bert. “I’ll use Whisker as a watch dog. Now don’t say anything to father or mother about our knowing there’re gypsies here,” went on Bert.

  “I won’t—I won’t say a word,” promised Dinah. “But I’ll keep mah ole eyes skinned fo’ Flossie an’ Freddie, an’ so will Sam. It’s got ’t be mighty smart gypsies dat’ll take away mah honey lambs!”

  Bert was really much excited by what he had seen and heard. The smashing of the box, what his father and mother thought about it, the taking of the bacon and the scare the night before—all this was quite a surprise.

  “Are you sure it’s gypsies?” asked Nan when her older brother told her what had happened.

  “I’m sure of it,” said Bert. “Now what you and I’ve got to do is to keep a good watch over Flossie and Freddie. Course we’re too big for the gypsies to take, but they could easy walk away with those little twins.”

  “What d’you s’pose they’d do with ’em, Bert, if they did take Flossie and Freddie?”

  “Oh, they wouldn’t hurt ’em, of course. They’d just black up Flossie’s and Freddie’s faces with walnut juice to make ’em look dark, like real gypsies, and they’d keep ’em until dad paid a lot of money to get the twins back.”

  “How much money?”

  “Oh, maybe a thousand dollars—maybe more.”

  “Oh!” exclaimed Nan. “Then we must be sure never to let Flossie or Freddie out of our sight. We’ve got to watch them every minute.”

  “Of course,” agreed Bert. “We’ll fool those gypsies yet.”

  Carrying out their plan to be very careful of their little brother and sister, Bert and Nan took the small twins in the boat with them when they went fishing an hour later. Bert would not go out far from the shore of Blueberry Island—indeed, his mother had told him he must not, for the lake was deep in places—and the older twins did about as much watching the bushes along the bank for signs of gypsies as they did fishing.

  Flossie and Freddie, however, not worrying about any trouble, had lots of fun tossing their baited hooks into the water, and Freddie yelled in delight when he caught the first fish. Flossie also caught one, but it was very small, and Bert made her put it back in the lake.

  The children caught enough fish for a meal, though when they started out neither their father nor mother thought they would. But the worms proved to be good bait.

  “We’d have caught bigger fish if we’d had my tin bugs for bait,” said Freddie.

  “I don’t want my bugs put on a hook,” said Flossie. “When will you find them, Freddie, and make them go around and around?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered.

  The tents were put in good order and for two or three days the children had great sport playing, going fishing and taking walks in the woods with their father and mother, or going for trips on the lake. There were no more night scares.

  “Maybe it wasn’t gypsies after all,” said Nan to her brother one day.

  “Yes, it was,” he said. “They were here, but they went away when they found out we knew about them. But they’ll come back, and then they may try to take Flossie or Freddie. We’ve got to keep a good watch.”

  It was about a week after they had come to Blueberry Island that the Bobbsey twins—all four of them—went for a ride in the goat wagon. There was a good road which ran the whole length of the island, and Whisker could easily pull the wagon along it.

  The twins had taken their lunch and were to have a sort of picnic in the woods. They rode under the green trees, stopped to gather flowers, and Nan made a wreath of ferns which she put over Whisker’s horns, making him look very funny, indeed. Then the twins found a nice grassy spot near a spring of water, and sat down to eat the good things Dinah had put up for their lunch.

  Freddie had taken one bite of a chicken sandwich when, all of a sudden, there was a noise in the bushes near him, and an odd face peered out. Freddie gave one look at it, and, dropping his piece of bread and chicken, cried:

  “Oh, it’s a blueberry boy! It’s a blueberry boy! Oh, look!”

  CHAPTER XII

  The Drifting Boat

  At first Nan and Bert did not know whether Freddie was playing some trick or not. Flossie had gone down to the spring to get a cupful of water, and so was not near her little brother when he gave the cry of alarm.

  But Bert looked up and had a glimpse of what had startled Freddie. Certainly there was an odd, blue face staring at the three twins from over the top of the bushes. And the face did not go away as they looked at it.

  “A blueberry boy! What in the world is a blueberry boy?” asked Nan.

  “There he is!” cried Freddie, pointing. “He’s been picking blueberries. That’s why I call him a blueberry boy.”

  “Yes, and he’s been eating them, too, I guess,” added Bert. “Did you want anything of us?” he asked of the stranger.

  By this time Flossie had come back with the water—that is, what she had not spilled of it—and she, too, saw the strange boy.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “My name’s Tom,” was the answer. “What’s yours?”

  “Flossie Bobbsey, an’ I’m a twin an’ we’re campin’ on this island, and we had some bugs that went around and around and—”

  “Flossie, come here,” called Nan. She did not want her little sister to talk too much to the strange boy. Nan had an idea the boy might belong to the gypsies.

  “I saw him first,” put in Freddie. “I saw his face all covered with blueberries, and I dropped my standwich—I did.”

  He began looking on the ground for what he had been eating, but finding, when he picked up the bread and bits of chicken, that ants were crawling all over the “standwich,” he tossed it away again.

  “Aw, what’d you do that for?” asked Tom, the blueberry boy. “That was good to eat! Ain’t you hungry?”

  “Yes, but I don’t like ants,” returned Freddie. “’Sides, there’s more to eat in the basket!”

  “Cracky!” exclaimed Tom. “That’s fine! There isn’t anything in my basket but blueberries, and not many of them. You get tired of eatin’ ’em after a while, too.”

  “Are you—are you hungry?” asked Bert. As yet no one else had appeared except the boy. He seemed to be all alone. And he was not much larger than Bert.

  “Hungry? You’d better believe I’m hungry!” answered the boy with a laugh that showed his white teeth with his blueberry-stained lips and face all around them. “I thought I’d have a lot of berries picked by noon, so I could row back to shore, sell ’em and get somethin’ to eat. But the berries ain’t as ripe as I thought they’d be—it’s too early I guess—so I’ve got to go hungry.”

  Nan whispered something to Bert who nodded.

  “We’ve got more sandwiches here,” Bert said to the blueberry boy. “Would you like one?”

  “Would I like one?” asked the boy, who seemed to answer one question by asking another like it. “Say, you just give me a chance. I ain’t had nothin’ since breakfast, and there wasn’t much of that.”

  With a bound he jumped through the bushes and stood in the little grassy glade where the Bobbsey twins were having a sort of picnic by themselves. They saw that Tom had on ragged clothes and no shoes. Indeed, he looked like a very poor boy, but his face, though it was stained with the blueberries he had eaten, was smiling and kind. The Bobbsey twins thought they would like him.

  “Here—eat this,” and Bert held out some sandwiches. Dinah had put in plenty, as she always did.

  “And he can have some cake, too,” said Fredd
ie. “I don’t want but two pieces, and I told Dinah to put in three for me.”

  “Oh, what a hungry boy!” laughed Nan.

  “And the blueberry boy can have one of my pieces of cake,” said Flossie. “Where did you get the blueberries?” she asked, looking into his basket.

  “I didn’t get many—that’s the trouble,” he said. “It’s a little too early for them. But the earlier they are the better price you can sell ’em for. So I came over alone today.”

  “Where do you live?” asked Bert, as the boy was hungrily eating the sandwich.

  “Over in Freedon,” and Tom Turner, for such he said was his name, pointed to a village on the other side of the lake from that where the Bobbsey twins had their home. “Our folks come here every year to pick blueberries, but never as early as this. I guess I’ve had my trouble for nothing. I’ve eaten more berries than I put in my basket, I guess. But I was so hungry I had to have something. I didn’t find many ripe ones at that, and I guess I got as much outside of me as I did inside,” and he laughed again, showing his white teeth.

  “Where do you folks live?” Tom asked, as he took a piece of cake Nan offered him.

  “We’re camping on this island.”

  “You don’t mean to say you are gypsies, do you?” asked the blueberry boy in surprise.

  “No, of course not!” Bert answered. “We live in Lakeport—Bobbsey is our name and—”

  “Oh, does your father have a lumberyard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh! Well, then you’re all right! My father drives one of your father’s lumber wagons. He just got that job this week—been out of work a long while. I heard him say he had a place in the Bobbsey lumberyard, but I never thought I’d meet you. I thought maybe you was gypsies at first.”

  “That’s what I thought you were,” said Nan.

  “We’re going to be gypsies when we get older—Freddie and me,” announced Flossie.

  “No, we’re not, Flossie. We’re going to be in a circus.”

  “Oh, yes! And I’m going to ride a horse standing up.”

  “And I’m going to be a clown—”

  “And he’ll have his little fire engine—”