The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “Tit-tat, Helen! Tit-tat, Helen! I see her in the hollow stump!”

  “I don’t care if I am it,” Helen answered. “Look what I found!”

  “What is it?” asked Flossie, sitting up amid the leaves.

  “It’s the dress Mollie wore when the gypsy took her away!” exclaimed Helen. “Oh, my doll must be somewhere on this island!” and holding the white object high above her head she ran toward Flossie.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Snoop Is Missing

  The children suddenly lost interest in the game of hide-and-go-to-seek. Freddie thought no more of spying Flossie or Helen. Flossie no longer cared about hiding down between the two logs, and Helen did not care about anything but the white dress she was holding up as she scrambled out of the hollow stump.

  “It’s my doll’s dress!” she said over and over again. “It’s my lost doll’s dress!”

  “Are you sure?” asked Flossie, as she shook the leaves from her dress and hair, and came over to her friend.

  “Course I’m sure!” answered Helen. “Look, here’s a place where I mended the dress after Mollie tore it when she was playing with Grace Lavine’s dollie one day.”

  Mollie hadn’t really torn her dress. Helen had done it herself lifting her pet out of the doll carriage, but she liked to pretend the doll had done it.

  “Let’s see the torn place,” said Flossie, and Helen showed where a hole had been sewed together.

  “I ’member it,” Helen went on, “’cause I sewed it crooked. I can sew better now. It’s my doll’s dress all right.”

  “It’s all wet,” said Freddie, who, though a boy, was not too old to be interested in dolls, though he did not play with them. “Maybe the gypsies live around here,” he went on, “and they washed your doll’s dress and hung it on the stump to dry.”

  “Maybe!” agreed Helen, who was ready to believe anything, now that she had found something belonging to her doll.

  “No gypsies live around here,” said Flossie, “’cause we haven’t seen any. But maybe they live in the cave.”

  “The cave’s far off,” said Freddie. “But it’s funny about that dress.”

  “I—I found it when I hid in the stump,” explained the little visiting girl. “First I thought it was a piece of paper, but as soon as I touched it I knew it wasn’t. Oh, now if I could only find Mollie!”

  “Maybe she’s in the stump, too,” Freddie said. “If the gypsies washed her dress they’d have to cover her up with leaves or bark so she wouldn’t get cold while her dress was drying.”

  “The gypsies didn’t wash her dress,” said Helen.

  “How do you know?” asked Flossie.

  “’Cause nobody washes dresses an’ makes ’em all up in a heap an’ puts ’em in a hollow stump,” Helen went on. “You’ve got to hang a dress straight on a line to make it dry.”

  “That’s so,” added Flossie. “You only roll a dress up the way this one was rolled when you sprinkle it to iron, don’t you, Helen?”

  “Yep. Oh, I do wish I could find my Mollie!”

  “Well, she must be somewhere around here if she isn’t in the stump,” insisted Freddie. “If the gypsies took off her dress they must have dropped the doll. Let’s look!”

  This was what the two little girls wanted to do, so with Freddie to help they began poking about with sticks in the leaves that were piled around the stump. They searched for some time, but could find no trace of the lost doll.

  “We’d better go and tell my mamma and your mamma,” said Flossie. “Maybe they’ll get a policeman and he’ll find the gypsies and your dollie, Helen.”

  “All right—come on!”

  Out of breath, the children ran to the tents where Mrs. Porter was just thinking about going in search of her little girl, as it was nearly time for the steamboat to come back for them.

  “Oh, I found Mollie’s dress! I found Mollie’s dress!” cried Helen, waving it over her head.

  “It was in a stump!” added Freddie.

  “And it was all wet from bein’ rained on, I guess,” said Flossie, for indeed the doll’s dress was still damp, and very likely it had been out in the rain. That stump would hold water for some time, like a big, wooden pitcher.

  Mrs. Porter was very much surprised to hear the news, and thought perhaps her little girl was mistaken. But when she had looked carefully at the dress, she knew it was one she herself had made for Helen when that little girl was a baby.

  “But how did it come on this island?” she asked.

  “It must have been dropped by the gypsies,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “In spite of what they said to us some one of them must have picked up the doll and carried her away for some little gypsy girl. And the gypsies must have been on this island. Some of the blueberry pickers said they saw them, but when I looked I could not find them. By that time they must have gone away.”

  “And did they take my doll with them?” asked Helen.

  “Well, I’m afraid they did,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “If they wanted your pet badly enough to take her away so boldly, as they did from the yard, they’d probably keep her, once they had her safe. It isn’t every day they can get a talking doll, you know.”

  “I wish there was some way of getting Helen’s doll back,” said Mrs. Porter. “She does nothing but wish for her every day. She has other dolls—”

  “But I liked Mollie best,” Helen said. “I want her. If she only knew I had her dress she might come to me,” she added wistfully.

  “She might, if she were a fairy doll,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, as she patted Helen on the head. “But we’ll look as carefully as we can for your little girl’s pet, Mrs. Porter. If Mollie is on this island we’ll find her.”

  “And I’ll leave this dress here,” said Helen, “so you can put it on her when you do find her. Then she won’t take cold.”

  “I’ll wash the dress and have Dinah iron it for you,” promised Flossie. “I can’t iron very well.”

  “Thank you,” said Helen. “Oh, I’m so glad I came here, for I found part of Mollie, anyhow.”

  Helen and her mother left Blueberry Island, promising to come again some day, and Flossie and Freddie said they would, in the meanwhile, look as well as they could for the lost doll.

  That night, in front of the tents, there was a marshmallow roast. The Bobbsey children, with long sticks, toasted the soft candies over the blaze, until the marshmallows puffed out like balloons and were colored a pretty brown. Then they ate them.

  Flossie and Freddie dropped about as many candies in the fire as they toasted, but Bert and Nan at last showed the small twins how to do it, and then Freddie toasted a marshmallow for his father and Flossie made one nice and brown for her mother.

  “I dropped mine in the dirt, after I cooked it,” said Freddie to his father, as he came running up with the hot candy, “but I guess you can eat it.”

  “I’ll try,” laughed Mr. Bobbsey, and he brushed off all the dirt he could, but had to chew the rest, for Freddie stood right in front of his father, to make sure the marshmallow was eaten.

  “Is it good?” asked the little boy.

  “Fine!” cried Mr. Bobbsey. “But I can’t eat any more,” he said quickly, “because I might get indigestion.”

  “Then I’ll eat ’em,” said Freddie. “I’m not afraid of id-idis-idisgestion.”

  It was jolly fun toasting candies at the campfire, but as everything must come to an end some time, this did also, and the children went to bed and the camp was quiet, except that now and then Whisker gave a gentle “Baa-a-a-a!” from his resting place under a tree, and Snoop, the black cat, purred in his sleep.

  The next day it rained, so the twins could not go to look for the doll, as they wanted to. They had to stay around the tents, though when the shower slackened they were allowed to go out with their rubber coats and boots on.

  Toward night the sun came out, and they all went down to the dock to meet the steamboat, for Mr. Bobbsey had gone over to the mainland after dinner,
to attend to some business at the lumber office, and was coming back on the last boat.

  It was after supper that Dinah, coming into the dining tent to clear away the dishes, caused some excitement when she asked:

  “Has any ob you all seen Snoop?”

  “What? Is our cat gone?” asked Bert.

  “Well, I hasn’t seen ’im since Flossie an’ Freddie was playin’ hitch him up like a hoss to a cigar box wagon,” went on Dinah. “He come out to me an’ I gib ’im some milk, an’ now, when I called ’im t’ come an’ git his supper, he ain’t heah!”

  Flossie and Freddie looked at each other. So did Nan and Bert. Even Mr. Bobbsey seemed surprised. But he said:

  “Oh, I guess he just went off in the woods for a rest after Flossie and Freddie mauled him when they were playing with him. Go call him, Bert.”

  So Bert went out in front of the tent and called: “Snoop! Snoop! Hi, Snoop, where are you?”

  But no Snoop answered. Then Flossie and Freddie called, and so did Nan, while Sam went farther into the woods among the trees. But the big black cat, that the children loved so dearly, was missing. Snoop did not come to his supper that night.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Freddie Is Caught

  “Hey! Wasn’t that Snoop?”

  “Listen, everybody!”

  Bert and Nan suddenly made these exclamations as they, with the rest of the Bobbsey family, were sitting in the main tent after supper. The lanterns had been lighted, the mosquito net drawn over the front door, or flap of the tent, to keep out the bugs, and the camping family was spending a quiet hour before going to bed.

  Bert thought he heard, in the woods outside, a noise that sounded like that made by the missing cat Snoop, and Nan, also, thought she heard the same sound.

  They all listened, Mr. Bobbsey looking up from his book, while Flossie and Freddie ceased their play. Mrs. Bobbsey stopped her sewing.

  “There it is again!” exclaimed Nan, as from the darkness outside the tent there came an odd sound.

  “What is it?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey. “It doesn’t sound like Snoop.”

  “Maybe it’s Snap!” exclaimed Freddie. “He used to howl like that.”

  “It did sound a bit like a dog’s howl,” admitted Bert. “May I go out and see what it is, Daddy?”

  “I’ll take a look,” said Mr. Bobbsey. He stepped to the flap of the tent and listened. The strange sound came again, and he went outside, while Bert went near the tent opening to listen. He, as well as his father, then heard another noise—that made by some one walking across the ground, stepping on and breaking small sticks.

  “Who’s there?” suddenly called Mr. Bobbsey, exactly, as Bert said afterward, like a soldier sentinel on guard. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me—Sam,” was the answer. “I done heard some strange noise, Mr. Bobbsey, an’ Dinah said as how I’d better git up and see what it was.”

  “Oh, all right, Sam. We heard it too. Listen again.”

  Sam stood still, and Mr. Bobbsey remained quietly outside the big tent. Sam and his wife lived in a smaller tent not far away, and they usually went to bed early, so Sam had had to get up when the strange noise sounded.

  Suddenly it came again, and this time Bert, who had stuck his head out between the flaps of the tent, called:

  “There it is!”

  “Who! Who! Who!” came the sound, and as Mr. Bobbsey heard it he gave a laugh.

  “Nothing but an owl,” he said. “I should have known it at first, only I couldn’t hear well in the tent. You may go back to bed, Sam, it’s only an owl.”

  “Only an owl, Mr. Bobbsey! Yas, I reckon as how it is; but I don’t like t’ heah it jest de same.”

  “You don’t? Why not, Sam?”

  “’Cause as how dey most always ginnerally bring bad luck. I don’t like de sound ob dat owl’s singin’ no how!”

  “He wasn’t singing, Sam!” laughed Bert, after he had called to the rest of the family inside the tent and told them the cause of the noise.

  “Ha! Am dat yo’, Bert?” asked the colored man. “Well, maybe an owl don’t sing like a canary bird, but dey makes a moanful soun’, an’ I don’t like it. It means bad luck, dat’s what it means! An’ you all’d better git t’ bed!”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid, Sam. We thought it was Snoop mewing, or Snap howling, maybe. You didn’t see anything of our lost dog, did you?”

  “Not a smitch. An’ I suah would like t’ hab him back.”

  “Ask him if he or Dinah saw Snoop,” called Flossie.

  Bert asked the colored man this, but Sam had seen nothing of the pet cat either.

  “Oh, dear!” sighed Freddie. “Both our pets gone—Snap and Snoop! I wish they’d come back.”

  “Maybe they will,” said his mother kindly. “It’s time for you to go to bed now, and maybe the morning will bring good news. Snap or Snoop may be back by that time.”

  “That’s what we‘ve been thinking about poor Snap for a long while,” grumbled Nan.

  “Well, I’m afraid Snap is lost for good,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “He never stayed away so long before. But Snoop may be back in the morning. He may have just wandered off. It isn’t the first time he has been away all night.”

  “Only once or twice,” said Bert, who came back to the book he was reading. “And both times it was because he got shut by accident in places where he couldn’t get out.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s happened this time,” suggested Nan. “We ought to look around the island.”

  “We will—to-morrow,” declared Bert.

  “And look in the cave Flossie and I found,” urged Freddie. “Maybe Snoop is there.”

  “We’ll look,” promised his brother.

  When Flossie and Freddie were taken to their cots by their mother, Flossie, when she had finished her regular prayers, added:

  “An’ please don’t let ’em take Whisker.”

  “What do you mean by that, Flossie?” asked her mother.

  “I mean I was prayin’ that they shouldn’t take our goat,” said the little girl.

  “I want to pray that, too!” cried Freddie, who had hopped into bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to pray that, Flossie?”

  “’Cause it just popped into my head. But you stay in bed, an’ I’ll pray it for you,” and she added: “Please, Freddie says the same thing!”

  Then she covered herself up and almost before Mrs. Bobbsey had left the sides of the cots both children were fast asleep.

  “Poor little tykes!” said the mother softly. “They do miss their pets so! I hope the cat and dog can be found, and Helen’s doll, too. It’s strange that so many things are missing. I wonder who Flossie meant by ‘they,’ I must ask her.”

  And the next morning the little girl, when reminded of her petition the night before and asked who she thought might take the goat, said:

  “They is the gypsies, of course! They take everything! Blueberry Tom said so. And I didn’t want them to get Whisker too.”

  “Who in the world is Blueberry Tom?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “He’s the boy who was so hungry,” explained Freddie. “He came to the island to pick early blueberries only there wasn’t any.”

  “Oh, now I remember,” Mrs. Bobbsey said with a laugh. “Well, I don’t believe there are any gypsies on this island to take anything. Snoop must have just wandered off.”

  “Then we’ll find him!” exclaimed Nan.

  During the next few days a search was made for the missing black cat. The twins, sometimes riding in their goat wagon, and again going on foot, went over a good part of the island, calling for Snoop. But he did not answer. Sam, too, wandered about getting firewood, and also calling for the lost pet. Mr. Bobbsey made inquiries of the boatmen and the man who kept the soda-water stand, but none of them had seen the children’s pet.

  Bert printed, with a lead pencil, paper signs, offering a reward for any news of Snoop, and these were tacked up on trees about the island so the b
lueberry pickers might see them. But though many read them, none had seen Snoop, and, of course, Snap was missing before the Bobbseys came to camp, so, naturally, he would not be on the island.

  But in spite of the missing Snap and Snoop, the Bobbsey twins had lots of fun in camp. During the day they played all sorts of games, went on long walks with their father and mother, or for trips on the lake. Sometimes they even rowed to other islands, not far from Blueberry Island, and there ate their lunch.

  The fishing was good, and Freddie and Bert often brought home a nice mess for dinner or supper. Whisker, the big white goat, was a jolly pet. He was as gentle as a dog and never seemed to get tired of pulling the twins in the wagon, though the roads of the island were not as smooth as those in Lakeport.

  But though the twins had fun, they never gave over thinking that, some day, they would find Snap and Snoop again.

  “And maybe Helen’s doll, too,” said Flossie. “We’ll hunt for her some more.”

  “But it’s easier to hunt for Snoop,” said Freddie, “’cause he can holler back when you holler at him.”

  “How can a cat holler?” asked his sister.

  “Well, he can go ‘miaou,’ can’t he?” Freddie asked, “an’ ain’t that hollerin’?”

  “I—I guess so,” Flossie answered. “Oh, Freddie, I know what let’s do!” she cried suddenly.

  “What? Make mud pies again? I’m tired of ’em. ’Sides, Momsie just put clean things on us.”

  “No, not make mud pies—I’m tired of that, too. Let’s go off by ourselves and hunt Snoop. You know every time we’ve gone very far from camp we’ve had to go with Nan and Bert; and you know when you hunt cats you ought to be quiet, an’ two can be more quiet than three or four.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Freddie, after thinking it over.

  “Then let’s just us two go,” went on Flossie. “We won’t get lost.”

  “Nope, course not,” said Freddie. “I can go all over the island, and I won’t let you be lost. Snoop knows us better than he does Nan and Bert anyhow, ’cause we play with him more.”

  “And if we find him,” went on Flossie, “and he’s too tired to walk home we’ll carry him. I’ll carry his head part an’ you can carry his tail.”