The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “What is it?”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Are we off the track?”

  These and many other questions were being asked by every one it seemed.

  “I was dreamin’ that I fell out of bed and I got a big bump!” said Freddie Bobbsey, and, hearing that, many of the passengers laughed.

  This seemed to make them feel better, and when it was seen that the sleeping car was not broken and that no one in it was hurt, the men and women began to talk about what had best be done.

  “We’re off the track, that’s sure,” said one man who had a berth next to Mr. Bobbsey. “You can tell we’re off the track by the way this car is tipped to one side.”

  “Yes, I believe we are,” said the children’s father. “Well, if it isn’t anything worse than being off the track we will not worry much. But there was a pretty hard crash, and I’m afraid some of the passengers in the other cars are hurt.”

  “You’re right—it was a hard crash,” said a woman to whom Mrs. Bobbsey was speaking. “It awakened me from a sound sleep. If we are off the track I wonder how long it will take us to get back on?”

  “I have a train of cars,” said Freddie, who, with the other Bobbsey children, was now partly dressed. “I have a train of cars, and when they get off the track Flossie and I put ’em back on.”

  “Well, I wish you could do that with this train, my little engineer!” laughed the man who had talked to Freddie’s father.

  “I’m not an engineer!” exclaimed the little fellow, smiling.

  “No?” asked the man.

  “Nope! I’m a fireman, and my sister’s a fairy!” went on Freddie, pointing to Flossie so every one would know he did not mean Nan.

  “Well, if she is a fairy maybe she can wave her magic wand and put us all back on the track again,” went on the man. “Can you do that, little fairy?” he asked. “Where is your magic wand?”

  “I—I hasn’t any,” answered Flossie, who was feeling a bit shy and bashful because so many persons were looking at her and smiling.

  “Well, here comes the conductor,” said some one. “Perhaps he can tell us what the matter is, even if he can’t put the train back on the rails. What’s wrong, conductor?” asked a man whose hair was all tousled from having gotten out of his berth in such a hurry.

  “There has been an accident,” explained the train conductor. “It isn’t a bad one, but it will hold us here for an hour or two.”

  “Is any one hurt?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “No, I’m glad to say no one is,” the conductor said. “Our train ran into a freight car that stuck too far over the edge of its own track out on our track. Our engine smashed the freight car, some damage was done to the locomotive itself, and the crash threw some of our cars off the rails. But no one was hurt more than being shaken up.”

  “That’s good,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Then had we better stay right in our car?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” answered the conductor. “That’s what I came in to tell you—stay right here. We have sent for the wrecking crew, and we will go on again as soon as we can. There is no danger. You need not be afraid, even if you get shaken up again.”

  “Are you going to shake us up?” asked Bert.

  “No, but the wrecking crew will when they pull this car back on the rails,” the conductor replied. “But don’t be afraid—no one will be hurt.”

  The passengers quieted down after hearing this, and some of them who were good sleepers went back to bed. The Bobbsey twins were too wide-awake, their mother thought, to go to sleep so soon after the excitement, so she let them sit up a while to get quiet.

  Going to the end of the car, in the little passageway near the wash room, Bert and Nan could look out of the window. They saw men with flaring oil torches hurrying here and there. These were the railroad workers getting ready to put the train back on the track.

  There was not so much shouting, now that it was known no one was hurt, and soon the children heard the puffing of engines and the rumble of wheels.

  “The wrecking crew has arrived,” said Mr. Bobbsey, who came down the aisle to see if Bert and Nan were all right.

  “What’s a wrecking crew, Daddy?” asked Nan.

  “They are the men who clear away wrecked trains,” her father answered. “Don’t you remember? You saw them at the wreck in our town.”

  “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Nan. “There was one car with a big derrick on it, and it lifted the broken pieces of the wrecked cars out of the way.”

  “That’s the wreck Mr. Hickson was hurt in,” went on Bert. “I guess his wreck was worse than this one.”

  “Yes, it was,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “All railroad wrecks are bad enough, but some are worse than others. But now I think you children had better get back to your berths. There isn’t much more to see. You can feel the rest.”

  “You mean we can feel the bumping when they put us back on the rails?” asked Bert.

  “Yes,” his father told him.

  And a little while after Bert and his sister had got back in their berths they did feel a rumbling and bumping. There were more shouts out in the darkness of the night, and, peering under the edges of their curtains, the children saw more flickering torches and moving men.

  Then came an extra big bump, and the sleeping car swayed from side to side. A moment later it began to roll along smoothly.

  “I guess we’re back on the track now,” said Bert.

  “Yes,” his father answered, “we are. Now we’ll travel along.”

  And in about two hours after the wreck the train was on its journey again, not much the worse for the accident. The freight car had been smashed and so had the front part of the passenger engine. But another locomotive had come with the wrecking train, and this was used to haul the Bobbseys and other passengers where they wanted to go.

  “Now we’ll have something to tell Mr. Hickson when we get back home,” said Bert to Nan the next morning at the breakfast table.

  “You mean about the wreck?” asked Nan.

  “Yes,” replied Bert. “Course ours wasn’t a big wreck, like his, but it was big enough.”

  “I don’t want another,” said Nan. “I like Mr. Hickson; don’t you, Bert?”

  “Yes, I do. And I wish we could find his two sons for him, but I don’t s’pose we can.”

  “No,” agreed Nan, “we can’t ever do that.”

  It was about noon on the day after the night of the wreck, that Mr. Bobbsey said to his wife and children:

  “We will get out soon.”

  “Shall we be in Cowdon?” asked Bert. “At the ranch?”

  “No, not exactly at the ranch,” his father told him. “But we’ll reach the town of Cowdon, and from there we’ll drive to the ranch, which is about ten miles from the railroad.”

  “Oh, may I ride a pony out to the ranch?” cried Bert.

  “I don’t believe they’ll bring any ponies to meet us,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Later on you may ride one.”

  The train pulled into the little western station. Some time since the big stretches of woods and trees had been left behind, and now the Bobbseys were in the open prairie country—the land of cattle, cowboys and, at least Bert hoped, of Indians also.

  “This is really the West, isn’t it?” said Bert to his father, as they saw the wide, rolling fields on either side of the train.

  “Yes, this is the West,” was the answer.

  “But where are the cowboys and the cows?” Nan asked.

  “Oh, they don’t come so close to the railroad,” her father explained. “You’ll see them when you get to the ranch.”

  Then the train reached the small station, as I have said. It seemed to be very lonesome. There were no other buildings near it—only a water tank, and there was not an Indian in sight. At first Bert thought there was not even a cowboy, but when he saw a man sitting on the seat of a wagon with some horses hitched in front—horses that had strange, rough marks on their flanks—Bert cried:
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br />   “Oh, say! I guess he’s a cowboy!” and he pointed to the driver.

  “He hasn’t any cow!” exclaimed Flossie, and she wondered why the man in the wagon laughed.

  “No, I haven’t any cows with me,” he said; “but if this is the Bobbsey family I can take you to a place where you will see lots of cattle.”

  “We are the Bobbseys,” said the children’s father, walking over to the man in the wagon, “Are you from Three Star ranch?”

  “That’s where I’m from. I’m in charge, for the time being, but I can’t stay much longer. You’ll have to get another foreman. I got your letter, saying you were coming out, so I stayed to meet you. And now, if you’re ready, I’ll take you all out to Three Star.”

  “Is Three Star the name of a city?” asked Bert.

  “No, it’s the name of the ranch your mother owns, my boy,” said the man, who gave his name as Dick Weston. “All the cattle are marked, or branded, with three stars—like the ponies there,” and he pointed to the rough marks on the flanks of the team.

  “As soon as I saw those marks I knew you must be a cowboy,” said Bert. “You do ride a horse, don’t you?”

  “That’s about all I do,” said Foreman Weston, with a smile. “I don’t often ride in a wagon, but I knew you’d need one today to get to the ranch. Now, if you’re ready, we’ll start.”

  The train had gone on, after leaving the Bobbseys and their baggage. Into the wagon the twins were helped. Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey took their seats, the driver called to the horses and away they trotted.

  “Is Cowdon much of a town?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, as they drove along.

  “No, not much more than you can see over there,” and Dick Weston pointed with his whip to a few houses and a store or two on the prairie, about a mile from the railroad station. “We don’t go through it to get to Three Star ranch. We turn off to the north,” and he drove along the prairie road.

  “Oh, look at that snake!” suddenly cried Bert, pointing to one that wiggled and twisted across the road.

  “Yes, and you want to look out for those snakes,” said the driver. “That’s a rattler, and poisonous. Keep away from ’em!”

  “Yes indeed they must!” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Are there any other dangers out here?”

  “Well, not many, no, ma’am. And rattlers aren’t to be feared if you let ’em alone. Just keep clear of ’em. They’ll run away from you rather than fight.”

  Up and down little, rolling hills went the wagon, drawing the Bobbsey twins. They dipped down into a hollow, and for a time nothing could be seen but green fields.

  “Where are the cows?” asked Nan.

  “And the cowboys?” Bert wanted to know.

  “You’ll see ’em soon,” was the promise of the driver.

  All of a sudden a great noise burst out. There was the shooting of pistols and loud shouts.

  “Yi! Yi! Yip!” came in shrill cries.

  “Woo! Wow!” sounded, as if in answer.

  “Bang! Bang!” went the firearms.

  “What is that?” cried Nan, holding her hands over her ears.

  “Those are the cowboys,” answered Dick Weston, with a smile. “That’s their way of telling you they’re glad to see you. Here we are at the ranch.”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  A Runaway Pony

  Suddenly the noise of the shooting and shouting stopped. The children looked up toward the top of a little hill, for the sounds seemed to have come from the other side of that. As yet they had seen nothing that looked like a ranch, nor had they caught a glimpse of any cows or cowboys.

  But, all at once Flossie cried:

  “Oh, there they are! I see ’em!”

  “So do I!” echoed Freddie.

  And, with that, over the hill came racing about ten laughing, shouting and cheering men, each one waving his hat in one hand while the other held aloft something black, and from this black thing came spurts of smoke and banging noises.

  “There are the cowboys! There are the cowboys! I’m going to be one of them!” cried Bert.

  “Yes, there are the cowboys sure enough!” said Mr. Bobbsey.

  “Will they shoot us?” asked Flossie.

  “No they won’t shoot anybody!” said the driver with a laugh. “They only keep their revolvers—guns they call ’em—to drive the wolves away from the cattle. This is only their way of having fun. They’ll soon stop.”

  “Oh, what fun to be a cowboy and shoot a pistol!” cried Bert, as he saw the prancing horses. “I’m going to be one.”

  “You’ll have to grow up a little bigger,” said Dick Weston; “though you’re pretty good-sized now.”

  The Bobbsey twins and the Bobbsey grown-ups watched the cowboys as they rode up on their “ponies”, as the horses were called.

  “Hi, there!” called the leading cowboy. “Are the Bobbsey twins there in that outfit, Dick?”

  “That’s what!” answered the driver. “The Bobbsey twins are here! I’ve got all four of ’em!”

  “Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!” cheered the cowboys.

  “How did they know our names?” asked Nan of her mother, as the cowboys on their horses surrounded the wagon.

  “Well, I had to write to tell the man in charge of the Three Star ranch that we were coming,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey. “I mentioned that I had four little Bobbsey twins, and of course the cowboys remembered. They seem glad to see us.”

  And, indeed, it was a most hearty welcome that was given the Bobbsey family on their trip to the great West. Not only the lumbermen, but the men at the ranch were glad to see them.

  “Are these the cowboys who work for you?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey of Dick Weston as the men on the ponies put up their pistols, placed their broad-brimmed hats on their heads and rode along beside the wagon.

  “Well, you might say they work for you now, as you own this Three Star ranch,” the foreman said. “Of course I hire the men, or rather, I did, but after I leave you’ll have to get some one else to be foremen and hire the men. I only stayed until you got here. I have a big ranch of my own that another man and I bought. I’ll have to go and look after that.”

  “I shall be sorry to see you go, Mr. Weston,” said the children’s mother. “Do you know where I can get another foreman?”

  “Well, I’m sort of sorry to go myself, after I’ve seen these twins,” replied the driver. “We don’t very often see children out here. It’s too lonesome for ’em. But I just have to go. As for another foreman, why, I guess you won’t have any trouble picking one up. Any of the cowboys will act as foreman until you get a regular one.”

  “I am glad to know that,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “Is that the ranch?” asked Bert as the party of cowboys, riding around the carriage, suddenly started off down a little hill, and Bert pointed to several buildings clustered together at the foot of the slope almost like the buildings at the lumber camp.

  “Well, all this is Three Star ranch,” answered the foreman, and he swept his arm in a big circle across the prairie fields. “But those are the ranch houses and corrals.”

  “I don’t see any cows,” said Nan, and this seemed to puzzle her,

  “The cattle are mostly out on the different fields, or ‘ranges’, as we call ’em, feeding,” said Mr. Weston. “We drive them from place to place as they eat the grass. We don’t generally keep many head of cattle right around the ranch buildings. We have a cow or two for milk, and maybe a calf or so.”

  “Oh, may I have a little calf?” cried Freddie. “If I’m going to be a cowboy I want a little calf.”

  “I guess we can get you one,” said Mr. Weston, with a smile. “Well, here we are,” he went on, as he drove the wagon up in front of a one-story red building, with a low, broad porch. “This is the main ranch house where your uncle used to live part of the time, Mrs. Bobbsey,” he said. “I think you’ll find it big enough for your family. We fixed it up as best we could when we heard you were coming.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you have mad
e it just like a home!” said Mrs. Bobbsey in delight, as she went into the house with her husband and the children. “Oh, how lovely!”

  There were some bright-colored rugs on the floor, and in vases on the table and mantel were some prairie flowers. On the walls of the one big room, which seemed to take up most of the house, were oddly colored cow skins, mounted horns, and the furry pelt of some animal that Bert thought was a wolf.

  “I’m sure we shall like it here,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “I am glad we came to Three Star ranch.”

  “So’m I!” said Bert.

  “And can I get an Indian doll?” asked Nan.

  “Well, there are a few Indians around here,” said the foreman slowly. “They come to the ranch now and then to get something to eat, or trade a pony. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen any of ’em with a doll, though maybe they do have some.”

  “Will any Indian come soon?” Nan wanted to know.

  “I hope they do—real wild ones!” cried Bert.

  “We don’t have that kind here,” said the foreman. “All the Indians around here are tame. And I can’t say when they will come.”

  “Well, anyhow, there’s cowboys,” said Bert hopefully.

  The baggage was brought in and then the foreman said to Mr. Bobbsey:

  “When do you want to eat?”

  “Right now!” exclaimed Bert, before any one else had a chance to speak.

  “I thought so!” laughed the foreman. “Tell Sing Foo to rustle in the grub,” he went on to one of the cowboys on the outside porch.

  “Oh, do you have a Chinese laundryman for a cook?” asked Nan, as she heard the name.

  “Well, I guess Sing Foo can wash, bake, iron, mend clothes, or do anything around the ranch except ride a cow pony or brand a steer,” said Dick Weston. “He draws the line on that. But he surely is a good cook with the grub,” said the foreman.

  “I don’t want any grub,” put in Freddie anxiously. “I want something to eat.”

  “Excuse me, little man. I guess I oughtn’t to use slang before you.” said the foreman. “When I say ‘grub’ I mean something to eat And here comes Sing Foo with it now!”