“I’m sorry to have destroyed the property of any one else,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, “but we had to get Flossie loose. And I don’t believe those gypsies have any right to spread a net for birds.”
“My mother says they haven’t,” replied Tom. “It’s agin the law.”
“Let’s take the net away,” suggested Bert.
“No, we haven’t any right to do that,” said his mother, “but we can tell the man who has to enforce the laws against hunting birds. I’ll speak to your father about it. Are you all right now, Flossie?”
“Yes, Momsie. But it scared me when I was in the net.”
“I should think so!” exclaimed Nan, petting her sister. “Did you just stumble into it?”
“Yep. I was walkin’ along, and I saw a bush with a lovely lot of blueberries on it. I ran to it and then my foot tripped on a stone and I fell into the net. First I didn’t know what it was, and when I tried to get up I was all tangled. Then I hollered.”
“And I helped her holler,” said Freddie.
“Indeed, you did, dear. You were a good little boy to stay by Flossie. But you’re both all right now, and next time you come berrying stay closer by mother.”
“You’ve got lots of berries,” said Flossie, looking at Bert’s basket.
“Yes. Tom showed us this good place. And now I guess we’d better go,” said Bert. “Maybe those gypsies might come to look in their net.”
He glanced around as he spoke, but though it was lonely on this part of Blueberry Island there were no signs of the dark-skinned men with rings in their ears who had set the bird net.
Dinah made enough blueberry pie to satisfy even the four twins, and when Mr. Bobbsey heard about the net he told an officer, who took it away. Whether or not the gypsies found out what had happened to their snare, as the net is sometimes called, the Bobbseys did not hear, nor did they see any of the wandering tribe, at least for a while.
Jolly camping days followed, though now and then it rained, which did not make it so nice. But, take it all in all, the Bobbseys had a fine time on Blueberry Island. Mr. Bobbsey got Flossie and Freddie some new “go-around” bugs, and the small twins had lots of fun with them. The old ones they did not find.
Snoop was not found either, though many blueberry pickers, as well as the Bobbseys themselves, looked for the missing black cat. Nor was Snap located, though an advertisement was put in the papers and a reward offered for him. But Whisker did not go away, nor did any one try to take him, and he gave the twins many a fine ride.
“And I’m glad the gypsies didn’t get Whisker,” observed Flossie. “I like him. Maybe not so much as I like Snap and Snoop, but awfully well I like him.”
“Yes, he’s a nice goat. Nicer’n Mike’s goat that we ’most bought, but didn’t. I’m glad now that we didn’t get Mike’s goat, aren’t you, Flossie?”
“Yes, I am.”
The Bobbseys had been camping on the island about a month, when one day Mrs. Bobbsey went over to Lakeport to do some shopping, taking Nan and Bert with her, and leaving Flossie and Freddie in charge of their father. Of course Dinah and Sam stayed on the island also.
But you can easily imagine what happened. After Mr. Bobbsey had played a number of games with the small twins he sat down in a shady place to rest and read a book, thinking Flossie and Freddie would be all right playing near the big tent.
The two little ones were making a sand city. They made a square wall of sand, and inside this they built sand houses, railroads, a tunnel and many other things, until Freddie suddenly said:
“Oh, if we only had some of the clam shells that are down by the lake we could make a lot more things.”
“So we could!” cried Flossie. “Let’s go and get some!”
So, never thinking to ask their father, who was still reading, away rushed the two twins, after “clam” shells. They were not really shells of clams, but of fresh water mussels, but they were almost like the shells of the soft clams one sees at the beach. The mussels are brought up on shore by muskrats who eat the inside meat and leave the empty shells. The small twins often used the shells in their play and games.
The place where the mussel shells were usually to be found was not far from the tents, but like most children in going to one place Flossie and Freddie took the longest way. They were in no hurry, the sun was shining brightly, and it was such fun to wander along over the island. So, before they knew it, they were a long distance from “home,” as they called Twin Camp.
“Maybe we oughtn’t to’ve come,” said Flossie, as she stopped to pick some blueberries.
“We’re not so far,” said Freddie. “I know my way back. Oh, Flossie! look at that butterfly!” he suddenly called, making a grab for the fluttering creature. The butterfly flew on a little way and Freddie raced after it, followed by Flossie.
“Now I’m goin’ to get it!” the little boy cried. With his hat he made a swoop for the butterfly, and then suddenly he and Flossie, who was close behind him, tumbled down through a hole in the ground, which seemed quickly to open at their very feet, between two clumps of bushes.
“Oh!” cried Freddie, as he felt himself falling down.
“Oh, dear!” echoed Flossie.
Then they found themselves in great darkness.
CHAPTER XX
The Strange Noise
Freddie Bobbsey sat down with a thump. Flossie Bobbsey sat down with a bump. This was after they had fallen down the hole. And yet it had not been so much of a fall as it was a slide.
Both of them being fat and plump—much fatter and plumper since they had come to Twin Camp than before—the thump and the bump did not hurt them very much.
They had slid down into the hole on a sort of hill of sand, and if you have ever slid down a sandy hillside you know the stopping part doesn’t hurt very much. And, after all, the part of a fall that hurts, as the Irishman said, is not really the falling, it’s the stopping so suddenly that causes the pain.
“Freddie! Freddie!” called Flossie, a few seconds after she and her little brother had fallen down the hole. “Freddie, are you there?”
“Yep, I’m here, Flossie,” was Freddie’s answer, “only I dunno ’xactly where it is. I can’t see.”
“Nor me neither. But are you been hurted, Freddie?”
“No, are you?”
The children were forgetting all about the right way to use words, which their mother had so often told them, but as they were excited, and a little frightened, perhaps we must excuse them this time.
“I—I just sort of—of bumped myself, Flossie,” said Freddie. “Are you all right? And where are you?”
“I’m right here,” replied the little girl, “but I can’t see you. I—I— It’s awful dark, Freddie!”
“I can see a little light now,” Freddie went on. “Let’s get up and see if we can crawl back. My legs are all right.”
“So’s mine, Freddie. I guess I can—” and then Flossie suddenly stopped and gave a scream.
“What’s the matter?” asked Freddie, and the little boy’s voice was not quite steady.
“I—I touched something!” gasped his sister. “It was something soft and fuzzy.”
“Oh, was that you?” asked Freddie, and his voice did not sound so frightened now. “Well, that was my head you touched. I—I thought maybe it was something—something after me. I didn’t know you were so close to me, Flossie.”
“I didn’t either. But I’m glad I touched you. Where’s your hand. I’m sort of stuck in this sand and I can’t get up.”
By this time the eyes of both the children had become more used to the darkness of the place into which they had fallen, and they could dimly see one another. Freddie scrambled to his feet, shaking from his waist and trousers the sand that had partly filled them when he had slid down the incline, and gave his hand to Flossie. She had about as much sand inside her clothes as he had, and she shook this out. Both children then turned and looked up at the slide down which they had so suddenly fa
llen.
Up at the top—and very far up it seemed to them—they could see, at the end of the sandy slide where they had started to slip, a hole through which they had fallen. It was between two big stones, and had a large bush on either side. It had been covered with grass and bushes so that the small twins had not seen it until they stepped right into it. Then the grass and bushes had given way, letting the children down.
“We—we’ve got to get back up there—somehow,” said Freddie with a doleful sigh, as he looked at the place down which he and his sister had tumbled.
“Yes, I would like to get up out of here,” said Flossie, “but how can we, Freddie?”
“Climb up, same as we falled down. Come on.”
Taking his sister by the hand, Freddie started to climb up the hill of sand. But he and Flossie soon found that though it was easy enough to slide down, it was not so easy to climb back. The sand slipped from under their feet, and even though they tried to go up on their hands and knees it was not to be done.
“Oh, dear!” cried Flossie after a while, “I wish we were Jack and Jill.”
“Why?” asked Freddie.
“’Cause they went up a hill, an’ we can’t.”
“Maybe we can if we try again,” said Freddie. “Anyhow, I don’t want to be Jack, and fall down and break my crown.”
“You haven’t any crown,” said Flossie. “Only kings an’—an’ fairies have crowns.”
“Well, it says in the book that Jack has a crown; an’ if I was Jack I’d have one too. Only I’m not and I’m glad!”
“Well, I wish I was Jill, so I could have some of that pail of water,” sighed Flossie. “I’m firsty,” and she laughed as she used the word she used to say when she was a baby.
“So’m I,” said Freddie. “Let’s try to get up to the top, an’ then we can get a drink, maybe. Only I’d rather be Ali Baba than Jack, then I could say, ‘Open Sesame,’ and the door to the cave would open of itself, and we could walk out and carry diamonds and gold with us.”
“I’d rather have bread and butter than gold. I’m hungry. And I’d most rather have a drink,” sighed the little girl. “Come on, Freddie, let’s try to get up that hill. But it’s awful hard work.”
“Yes, it’s hard,” agreed Freddie; “but we’ve done lots harder things than that.” You see, Freddie was trying to keep up his little sister’s courage.
Once more the two little twins tried to climb the hill of shifting sand, but they could get up only a little way before slipping back. They did not get hurt—the sand was too soft and slippery for that, but they were tired and hot, and, oh! so thirsty.
“I’m not goin’ to climb any more!” finally said Flossie. “I’m tired! I’m goin’ to stay here until mamma or papa or Nan or Bert comes for us.”
“Maybe they won’t come,” Freddie said.
“Yes, they will,” declared Flossie, shaking her head. “They allers comes when we’re lost and we’re losted now.”
“Yes, I guess so,” agreed Freddie. “I wonder where we are anyhow, Flossie?”
“Why, in a big hole,” she said. “Oh, Freddie!” she suddenly cried, “maybe we can get out the other way if we can’t climb up.”
“Which other way?” asked her brother.
“Out there,” and in the light that came down the hole through which the twins had fallen Freddie could see his sister pointing to what seemed another dim light, far away at the end of the big hole. For Flossie and Freddie had fallen into a big hole—there was no doubt of that. Though it was pretty dark all about them, there was enough light for them to see that they were in a cavern.
“Maybe it’s a cave, like the one we went into from the lake when we found the boat,” said Flossie, after thinking it over a bit, “and if we can’t get out one end we can the other.”
“Maybe!” cried Freddie eagerly. “Anyway, we can’t get up that hill of sand,” and he pointed to the one down which they had slid. “Come on, we’ll walk toward the other light.”
Far away, through what seemed a long lane of blackness, there was a dim light, like some big star, and toward this, hoping it would lead to a hole through which they could get out, the children walked.
As they neared it the light grew brighter, and they were beginning to feel that their troubles were over when suddenly they both came to a stop.
For, at the same time, they had heard an odd noise. It came from the darkness just ahead of them and was such a funny sound that Flossie put both her arms around Freddie, not so much to take care of him as that she wanted him to take care of her.
“Did—did you hear that?” she whispered.
Freddie nodded his head, and then, remembering that Flossie could not very well see his motions in the darkness he said:
“Yes, I heard it. I wonder—”
“Hey!” whispered Flossie. “There it goes again!”
CHAPTER XXI
“Here Comes Snap!”
The sound came once more through the darkness to the little Bobbsey twins, and as they listened to it Flossie and Freddie looked at one another in surprise. They could just dimly make out the faces of each other in the dimness.
“Mamma! Mamma!” cried a voice, for it was a voice that had caused the strange sound; yet it did not sound like the voice of man, woman or child. “Mamma! Mamma!” it cried.
“Hear it?” asked Flossie again.
“Yep,” answered Freddie. “It’s a little boy or girl—like us—an’ it’s in this cave. I guess lots of childrens get lost here like us. Now I’m not afraid.”
“Mamma! Papa! Mamma!” came the voice again.
“It—it’s kind of funny,” whispered Flossie to Freddie. “Don’t you think it’s kind of funny, Freddie?”
“Yes, but I know what makes it.”
“What?”
“It’s being in this cave. You know how we used to holler at the hill, when we went to the country—’member that?”
“Yep,” answered Flossie.
“An’ how our voices used to come back an’ sort of hit us in the face?” went on her brother.
“Yep.”
“Well, that was an echo,” said Freddie, “an’ that’s what makes it sound so weird here. It’s an echo.”
“Oh,” said Flossie. She had not thought of that.
Once more the voice sounded out of the darkness.
“Mamma! Papa! Mamma!”
“There! Hear it? It’s an echo!” cried Freddie.
Flossie listened a moment. Then she said:
“If it was an echo, Freddie, why didn’t your voice echo too?”
“Oh,—er—well—’cause I didn’t want it to,” Freddie made answer. “I can do it now. Hello! Hello! Hello!” he called as loudly as he could.
And then, to the surprise of the children, back came a voice in answer, and in more than an answer, for it asked a question. No longer did the voice call: “Mamma! Papa!”
Instead it cried:
“Hello, there! What’s the matter? Who are you and what do you want? Where are you?”
Flossie and Freddie were so startled that, for a moment, they could only hold on to each other in the darkness.
Then Freddie found his voice enough to speak. He said:
“Did you hear that echo, Flossie?”
“That wasn’t an echo,” declared his little sister quickly. “Echoes only say the same things you say and this—this was different.”
“Yes, it was,” Freddie agreed. “But maybe it’s a different kind of echo.”
“Try it again,” suggested Flossie, when they had remained quietly in the darkness for a time. And during that time they had not heard the strange voice calling. It seemed to have been hushed after the “echo,” if that is what it was, made answer. “Call again,” Flossie begged her brother. Once more he called:
“Hello! Hello! Hello!”
“Well, what do you want?” back came a voice in question. This time there was no doubt about its not being an echo. It had not repeated a
single word that Freddie had cried.
“Oh, how funny!” cried Flossie. “What makes it do that?”
Before Freddie could answer, even if he had known what to say, the two children saw a light coming toward them. It was the light of a lantern, bobbing about in the darkness, and because it was a light, which chased away some of the gloom, they were glad, even though they had been a bit frightened by the strange voice and the echo which did not repeat words as the other echo had done.
“Oh, maybe it’s daddy and Bert come to look for us!” cried Flossie eagerly.
Freddie thought the same thing, for he called out:
“Here we are, Daddy!”
But, to the surprise and disappointment of the children, a surly voice answered them:
“I’m not your father! Who are you, anyhow, and what are you doing in this cave?”
Flossie and Freddie, clinging to each other, shrank back in fear. Then, as the light came nearer, they saw that the lantern was carried by a tall man—a man with a very dark face. He had gold rings in his ears, on his feet were big boots, and around his neck was a bright yellow handkerchief.
“Oh!” gasped Flossie. “Oh, he—he’s a gypsy!”
Freddie saw it, too. The man seemed surprised to see the children. He gave a sort of grunt, held the lantern up to their faces, and exclaimed:
“Why, there’s two of ’em!”
“Yes, we—we’re twins!” stammered Flossie.
“Twins are always two,” Freddie added, thinking, perhaps, that the gypsy man did not know that.
“Twins, eh?” remarked the man in a questioning voice.
“The Bobbsey Twins,” said Freddie. “We came from our camp, and we—”
“How’d you get in this cave? That’s what I want to know!” cried the man, and he spoke harshly. “Tell me, how did you get here?” he asked, and he held the lantern in front of the faces of the two little children.
“We—we fell in here!” said Freddie, pushing Flossie behind him. He felt that he must look after his little sister and protect her.
“Fell in?” cried the man.
“Yes, through a hole. We slid down a sandy hill, and we couldn’t climb back again. We saw a little light over this way and we walked to it and then we heard some one cry: ‘Mamma!’ Are there any more little children here?” Freddie asked.
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