The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “Sush! Don’t speak so loud,” cautioned Freddie, looking over his shoulder.

  “Why not?” Flossie wanted to know.

  “I mean about the bear robe,” her brother went on. “There might be some bears in the woods, and if they heard there was the skin of one of ’em at the cabin, maybe they wouldn’t like it.”

  “Maybe that’s so,” agreed Flossie, also looking around. “But, anyhow, Rover’d drive the bears away; wouldn’t you, Rover?”

  The dog barked and wagged his tail, which was the only answer he could give. It satisfied the children, and soon they started off again, making their way through the snow, hoping they would soon catch up with their father, Mr. Case and Mr. Bimby. Rover accompanied Flossie and Freddie, sometimes ahead of them and sometimes behind.

  The dog had started out, as he often did, to follow his master, but had lagged behind, perhaps to run after a rabbit or squirrel. Then he had come across the tracks of the children and had gone to them, knowing they were friends of his.

  “I’m hungry,” said Flossie, after a while. “Let’s sit under a Christmas tree and eat, Freddie.”

  “All right,” agreed her brother, always willing to do this.

  They were, just then, in a clump of evergreen trees, and under some the snow was not as deep as it was in the open. In fact the children found one tree with no snow under it at all, so thick were the branches, and so close to the ground did they come. Crawling into this little nest, where the ground was covered with the dry needles from the pines and other trees, Flossie and Freddie opened the packages of lunch they had brought with them.

  Rover, smelling the food, crawled into the shelter after them, and Flossie and Freddie shared their lunch with the dog, who even ate the crumbs off the ground.

  “But we mustn’t eat everything,” said Freddie, when part of the lunch had been disposed of, Rover getting his share.

  “Why not?” asked Flossie. “Can’t you eat all you want to when you’re hungry?”

  “It’s best to save some,” Freddie answered. “Maybe we’ll get stuck in the snow and can’t get anything more to eat for a while, and then we’ll be glad to have this.”

  “That’s so,” agreed Flossie, after thinking it over. “I guess I’m not so very hungry. But Rover is. He’s terrible hungry, Freddie. See him look at the lunch.”

  Indeed the dog seemed to be following, with hungry eyes, every motion of the little boy who was wrapping up again that part of the lunch not eaten by him and his sister. They saved about half of it.

  Rover sniffed and snuffed as only a dog can, but he made no effort to take the lunch that Freddie placed in a crotch of the evergreen tree which made such a nice shelter for him and his sister.

  “Don’t you take it, Rover!” cautioned Flossie, shaking her finger at him.

  Rover thumped his tail on the ground, perhaps to show that he would be good and mind.

  “It’s nice and warm in here,” Freddie remarked, after a while. “I wish we could stay here longer, Flossie.”

  “Can’t we?”

  “Not if we want to go to Mrs. Bimby’s,” Freddie answered. “We have to get out and walk some more. And it’s snowing again, too.”

  Whether it was or not, the children could not be quite certain, for the wind was blowing, and if the flakes were not falling from the sky they were blowing up off the ground.

  It was almost the same, anyhow, for there was a fine shower of the cold, white flakes in the air, and it was much more cosy and warm under the tree than out in the open.

  “Let’s stay here a little longer,” begged Flossie. “Rover likes it here, don’t you?” she asked, as she reached out her hand and patted the shaggy back of the dog.

  And from the manner in which Rover thumped his tail on the ground you could tell that he did, indeed, like to be with the little Bobbsey twins under the shelter of the tree.

  “I know what we can do,” said Freddie, after thinking a moment. “I know what we can do to have some fun!”

  “What?” asked Flossie, always ready for anything of this sort.

  “We’ll throw a lot of these pine cones outside, and Rover will chase after ’em and bring ’em back,” went on Freddie. “He likes to run out in the snow. And after we play that awhile maybe it will be nicer outside.”

  “All right,” agreed Flossie. “We’ll throw pine cones.”

  There were many of these on the pine-needle covered ground beneath the sheltering tree. The cones were really the clusters of seeds from the tree, and they had become hard and dry so they made excellent things to throw for a dog to bring back.

  Rover liked to race after sticks when thrown by the children, and the pine cones were ever so much better than sticks. There were so many of them, too.

  “I’ll throw first, and then it will be your turn, Flossie,” Freddie said. “Here, Rover!” he called to the dog, as he picked up several of the cones.

  Always ready for a lark of this sort, Rover leaped to his feet and stood at “attention.” Freddie bent aside some of the branches and tossed a pine cone out of the opening.

  It fell in a bank of snow some distance away, for Freddie was a good thrower for a little boy. And the pine cone, being light, did not sink down in the snow as a stone would have done.

  “Bow-wow!” barked Rover, as he dashed out after the pine cone.

  That was his way of saying he would bring it back as quickly as he could. And as Rover rushed from under the little green tent of the pine tree Flossie gave a cry of surprise.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Freddie, turning around to look at his sister.

  “Rover knocked me down!” she answered with a laugh, and, surely enough, there she was sprawling on the brown pine needles which covered the ground under the tree. “He just bunked into me and knocked me over!”

  Rover was not used to playing with children, you see, and he was a bit rough. But he didn’t mean to be.

  Flossie sat up, still laughing, for she was not in the least hurt, and by this time Rover had brought back the pine cone that Freddie had tossed out.

  “Good dog, Rover!” cried Freddie, patting the animal as he laid down the cone and wagged his tail. “Now it’s your turn to throw one, Flossie,” Freddie said.

  “All right,” Flossie answered. “But look out he doesn’t knock you down, Freddie.”

  “I’m looking out!” Freddie said, and he quickly moved over to one side of the space under the tree, while Flossie threw out her cone.

  Flossie was not quite so good a thrower of sticks, stones, or pine cones as was her brother. But she did pretty well. Though her cone did not go as far as Freddie’s had, it sank farther down into the snow. Maybe the cone was a heavier one, or it may have fallen in a softer place in the snow. Anyhow it went quite deep into a drift and Rover had to dig with his forepaws to get it so he could take it in his mouth.

  “Oh, look at him!” cried Flossie, as the dog, digging away, made the snow fly in a shower back of him. “He’s like a snowplow on the railroad!”

  Once, in a big storm, Flossie and Freddie had seen the railroad snowplow, pushed by two locomotives, cut through a high drift. And the way Rover scattered the snow made the little girl think of the plow.

  “Bring it here, Rover!” cried Freddie, for it would be his turn next to throw a cone.

  “Bow-wow!” barked the dog, and then, with a final dive into the drift, he got the brown cone in his mouth and came racing back with it. Covered with snow as he was, he crawled under the shelter to be petted and talked kindly to by Freddie and Flossie.

  Then, just as he probably did when he came out of the water in the summer time, Rover gave himself a shake, to get rid of the snowflakes.

  “Oh! Oh!” laughed Flossie, holding her hands over her face. “Stop it, Rover! You’re getting me all snow!”

  But Rover kept it up until he had got off all the snow, and then he raced out again after more cones as the children threw them.

  If Bert Bobbsey could have k
nown where his little sister and brother were, with brave old Rover beside them, I am sure he would have wished to join them. For Bert, about this time, was running away from the wildcat that had suddenly burst through the bushes.

  “You’re not going to get me!” said Bert to himself, as he clutched his package of lunch and raced on as well as he could.

  The pain in his leg bothered him, but he was not going to stop for a thing like that and let a wildcat maul him. On he ran through the snow, taking the easiest path he could find. He looked back over his shoulder once or twice, to find the wildcat bounding lightly along after him.

  And after he had looked back and had seen the size of the animal and noticed that there was only one, somehow or other Bert became braver, and he had an idea that perhaps he might drive this beast away.

  Wildcats, or bobcats as they are sometimes called, being also known as the bay lynx, are not as large as a good-sized dog. They weigh about thirty pounds, and though they have sharp teeth and claws they very seldom attack persons. Only when they are disturbed, or fear that someone is going to harm their little ones or take away their food, do bobcats run after persons.

  And this one must have thought Bert was going to do it some harm, for the animal certainly chased the lad.

  “Ho!” said Bert to himself, as he looked back, “you’re not so big! Maybe you have got sharp teeth and claws, but if you don’t get near me you can’t hurt me! I’m going to make you go back!”

  Bert had a sudden idea of how he might do this—with snowball bullets. All about him was snow—piles of it—and Bert had often taken part in snowball fights at home. He was a good thrower, and once he had snowballed a savage dog that had run at Flossie and Freddie and had caused the animal to run yelping away.

  “I’m going to snowball this wildcat!” decided Bert.

  He ran on a little farther until he came to a small clearing where the trees stood in an irregular ring around an open place. There Bert decided to make a stand and see if he could not drive the chasing wildcat away.

  “And if he won’t go, and comes after me,” thought Bert, “I can climb a tree.”

  He did not know, or else had forgotten, that wildcats themselves are very good tree-climbers.

  Reaching the other side of the clearing, Bert laid his package of lunch down on a firm place in the snow, and then rapidly began to make some hard, round balls. He packed them with all his might between his mittened hands, for he knew a soft snowball would not be of much use against a wildcat.

  He had been some distance ahead of the animal, and when it ran up to the edge of the clearing Bert had several snowballs ready.

  “Come on now! See how you like that!” cried the boy. He threw one snowball “bullet,” but he was so excited that it went high over the head of the bobcat. The next one struck in the snow at the feet of the animal. But the third one hit it right on the nose!

  “Good shot!” cried Bert.

  The wildcat uttered a snarl and a growl, and stopped for a moment. Perhaps it had never before chased anyone who threw snowballs.

  “Have another!” cried Bert, and the next white bullet struck it on the side. The bobcat leaped up in the air, and then Bert threw another ball which hit it on the head.

  This was too much for the creature. With a loud howl it turned and ran back into the woods, and Bert breathed easier.

  “Well, I guess as long as I can throw snowballs you won’t get me,” he said to himself, as he picked up the package of lunch and hurried on.

  CHAPTER XXI

  On the Rock

  Bert Bobbsey felt very proud of himself after he had driven away the wildcat with snowballs. And I think he had a right to be proud. Not many boys of his age would have dared to stand and await the oncoming of a beast that is quite dangerous once it starts to claw and bite. But Bert had spent so much time in the woods and out in the open that he was very self-reliant.

  And so, after looking back once or twice as he left the clearing, and finding that the bobcat did not follow, Bert began to feel much better.

  “I’ll soon be at Cedar Camp,” he said to himself, “and then I’ll be all right. I’ll send ’em back to get Nan and take something to eat to Mrs. Bimby. I’ll be glad to see Flossie and Freddie again.”

  Had Bert only known it, Flossie and Freddie were nearer to him than if they had been in Cedar Camp, though the small Bobbsey twins were still some distance from their brother.

  And while Mr. Bobbsey was forging ahead through the snow with Old Jim Bimby and Tom Case, knowing nothing, of course, about his little boy and girl having followed him, Mrs. Bobbsey was having worries of her own about the absence of the small children from the cabin.

  She and Mrs. Baxter had missed Flossie and Freddie soon after the men had started on the searching trip, but, for a time, the mother of the two small twins was not at all worried. She thought Flossie and Freddie had merely run out to play a little, as it was the first chance they had had since the big storm began.

  But when, after a while, they had not come back to the cabin, and she could see nothing of them, Mrs. Bobbsey said:

  “Mrs. Baxter, have you seen Flossie and Freddie?”

  “No, Mrs. Bobbsey, I haven’t,” answered the cook. “But it looks as if they had been in the pantry, for things there are all upset.”

  Mrs. Bobbsey looked around the kitchen and pantry, and she at once guessed part of what had happened.

  “They’ve packed up lunch for themselves,” she said to the housekeeper, “and they’ve gone out to play. Well, they’ll be all right as long as they stay around here and it doesn’t storm again. I’ll go and look for them in a few minutes.”

  But when she did look and call Flossie and Freddie, they were not to be found. Indeed, they were more than a mile away by this time, and they had just met Rover, as I have told you.

  “I’m glad Rover’s with us, aren’t you, Freddie?” asked Flossie, as they made ready to set off again, after having eaten their lunch.

  “Lots glad,” answered the little boy. “Mrs. Bimby will be glad to see him, I guess.”

  Indeed Mrs. Bimby, left alone with Nan after Bert had gone out, would have been glad to see almost anyone. For she was worried because her husband was away and because there was so little left in the house to eat, only she did not want to tell Nan so. And she did not think she could shoot another rabbit, as Bert had done.

  “I do hope that boy will find my Jim or someone and bring help,” thought Mrs. Bimby.

  And of course Mr. Bobbsey with Old Jim and Tom Case were on their way to the cabin, but they had to go slowly on account of so much snow.

  The snow was worse for Flossie and Freddie than for any of the others in the woods, because the legs of the small twins were so short. It was hard work for them to wade through the drifts. But they felt a little better after their rest under the “Christmas tree,” as Flossie called it, and after they had eaten some of their lunch. So on they trudged again.

  “Maybe we can find daddy’s lost Christmas trees,” suggested Freddie, after a while.

  “Wouldn’t he be glad if we did?” cried Flossie. “Here, Rover! Come back!” she called, for the dog was running too far ahead to please her and Freddie.

  The dog came racing back, scattering the snow about as he plunged through it, and Flossie patted his shaggy head.

  “Don’t you think we’ll find daddy pretty soon?” asked Flossie, after she and Freddie had trudged on for perhaps half an hour longer. “I’m getting tired in my legs.”

  “So’m I,” her brother admitted. “I wish we could find ’em. But if we don’t, pretty soon, we’ll go back, ’cause I think it’s going to snow some more.”

  Indeed, the sky seemed to be getting darker behind the veil of snow clouds that hung over it, and some swirling flakes of white began sifting down.

  Freddie came to a stop and looked about him. He was tired, and so was Flossie. The only one of the party who seemed to enjoy racing about in the drifts was Rover. He nev
er appeared to get tired.

  “I guess maybe we’d better go back,” said Freddie, after thinking it over. “We haven’t much left to eat, and I guess daddy can tell Mrs. Bimby about the bear skin to keep her warm.”

  “I guess so,” agreed Flossie. “It’s going to be night pretty soon.”

  It would be some hours until night, however, and the darkness was caused by gathering storm clouds, but Flossie and Freddie did not know that. They turned about, and began to go back along the way they had come. At least they thought they were doing that, but they had not gone far before Flossie said:

  “Freddie, we’ve come the wrong way.”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “’Cause we aren’t stepping in our own tracks like we would be if we went back straight.”

  Freddie looked at the snow. It was true. There was no sign of the tracks they must have made in walking along. Before this they had known which way they were going. Now they didn’t.

  “We—we’re lost!” faltered Flossie.

  “Oh, maybe not,” said Freddie as cheerfully as he could. But still, when he realized that they had not walked along their back track, he knew they must be going farther into the woods, or at least away from Cedar Camp.

  “Oh, I don’t like to be lost!” wailed Flossie. “I want to go home!”

  Freddie did too, but he hoped he wouldn’t cry about it. Boys must be brave and not cry, he thought.

  But as the little Bobbsey twins stood there, not knowing what to do, it suddenly became colder, the wind sprang up, and down came a blinding storm of snow, so thick that they could not see Rover, who, a moment before, had been tumbling about in the drifts near them.

  “Oh! Oh!” cried Flossie. “Let’s go home, Freddie!”

  But where was “home” or camp? How were they to get there?

  And so, soon after Bert had driven off the wildcat and had run on, this Bobbsey lad, too, was caught in the same snow storm that had frightened Flossie and Freddie. But of course Bert did not know that.

  “Say, we’ve had enough snow for a winter and a half already,” thought Bert, as he saw more white flakes coming down. “And it isn’t Christmas yet! I hope I’m not going to be snowed in out here all alone! I’d better hurry!”