CHAPTER XVIII
FLOSSIE IS TANGLED
Flossie Bobbsey, who had been sitting on the cleanest and dryest log shecould find near the edge of the stream to watch Freddie wade, jumped upas she heard him cry. She had been wishing she was with him, whitestockings or none.
"Oh, Freddie, what's the matter?" she cried. "What's happened?"
"I--I'm caught!" he answered. "Can't you see I'm caught?"
"But how?" she questioned eagerly. "You aren't caught in a trap likeSnap was, are you?"
"No, it isn't a trap--it's sticky mud," Freddie said. "My feet are stuckin the mud!"
"Oh--oh!" said Flossie, and a queer look came over her face. "You arestuck in the mud! How did you do it, Freddie?"
"I didn't do it! It did it! I just stepped in a soft place, and nowwhen I pull one foot out the other sticks in deeper. Can't you help meout, Flossie?"
"Yes, I'll help you out!" she cried, and she ran down to the edge of thestream, as though she intended to wade out to where poor Freddie wastrying to pull his feet loose from the sticky mud.
"Oh, don't come in! Don't come in!" cried Freddie, waving her back withhis hand. "You'll be stuck, too!"
Flossie stood still on the edge of the little brook. She looked atFreddie, who was in the middle of the stream, too far out for Flossie toreach with her outstretched hands, though she tried to do so.
"Can't you pull your feet out?" she asked.
"Nope!" answered Freddie. "I can't, for I've tried. As soon as I get onefoot up a little way the other goes down in deeper."
"Then I'll go and call mamma!"
"No, don't do that!" begged Freddie. "Maybe if you would get a longstick, Flossie, and hold it out to me, I could sort of pull myselfout."
"Oh, I know. It's like the picture in my story book of the boy who fellthrough the ice, and his sister held out a long pole to him and hepulled himself out. Wait a minute, Freddie, and I'll get the stick. I'mglad you didn't fall through the ice, though, 'cause you'd get coldmaybe."
"This water is nice and warm," said Freddie. "But I don't like the mudI'm stuck in, 'cause it makes me feel so tickly between the toes."
"I'll help you out," said Flossie. "Wait a minute."
She searched about on the bank until she found a long smooth branch of atree. Holding to one end of this she held the other end out to herbrother. Freddie had to turn half around to get hold of it as his backwas toward Flossie, and she could not cross the brook.
"Now hold tight!" cried the little boy. "I'm going to pull!"
Flossie braced her feet in the sand on the bank of the brook and herbrother began to pull himself out of the mud. His feet had sunk down toquite a depth, and when he first pulled he made Flossie slide along theground until she cried:
"Oh, Freddie, you're going to make me stuck, too! Don't pull me into thewater!"
Freddie stopped just in time, with the toes of Flossie's shoes almost inthe water.
"Did you pull loose a little bit?" she asked.
"Yes, a little. But I don't want to pull you in, Flossie. If you couldonly hold on to a tree or a rock, then I wouldn't drag you along."
"Maybe I can hold to this tree," and Flossie pointed to one near by. "IfI can stretch my arms I can reach it."
"Look for a longer tree branch to hold out to me," said Freddie, andwhen his sister had found this she could reach one end to her brother,keep the other end in her right hand, and with her left arm hold on to asmall tree. The tree braced Flossie against being pulled along the bank,and when next Freddie tried, he dragged his feet and legs safely fromthe sticky mud, and could wade out on the hard, gravelly bottom of thebrook.
"I guess that was a mud hole where some fish used to live," said thelittle fellow, as he came ashore, a little bit frightened by what hadhappened.
"Your feet are all muddy," said Flossie, "and you are all wet aroundyour knees."
"Oh, that'll dry," said Freddie. "And I can wash the mud off my feet. Itwas awful sticky."
It certainly seemed to be, for it took quite a while to wash it off hisbare feet and legs, though he stood for some time in the brook, wherethere was a white, pebbly bottom, and used bunches of moss for a bathsponge.
But at last Freddie's legs were clean, though they were quite red fromhaving been rubbed so hard with the moss-sponge. Flossie, too, havinghelped her brother scrub himself, had gotten some water on her shoes andstockings, and a little mud, too.
"But we can walk through places where the grass is high," said Freddie,"and that will brush the mud off, and the sun will dry your stockin'ssame as it will my pants."
"And we'll keep on calling for Snoop," said Flossie.
Freddie having put on his stockings and shoes, the two children set outagain, wandering here and there, calling for the black cat. But eitherhe did not hear them or he would not answer, and when, after an hour ortwo, they got back to camp, they had not found their pet.
"Where have you two been?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey. "I was just gettinganxious about you."
"We've been looking for Snoop," said Flossie.
"And I went in wadin' an' got stuck in the mud, and my pants got alittle wet, and Flossie's shoes and stockin's got wet an' muddy, but wewaded in tall grass and we're not very muddy now," said Freddie, all outof breath, but anxious to get the worst over with at once.
"Oh, you shouldn't have gone in wading!" cried Mrs. Bobbsey.
"You didn't tell me not to--not to-day you didn't tell me," Freddiedefended himself.
"No, because I didn't think you'd do such a thing," replied his mother."I can't tell you every day the different things you mustn't do--thereare too many of them."
"But there are so many things we can do too--oh, just lots of them."
"Yes, and the things we may do and the things we're not to do are justawful hard to tell apart sometimes, Momsie," put in Flossie.
"Yes'm, they are," added Freddie. "And how is a feller and his sister toknow every single time what they're to do and what they're not to do?"
"Suppose you try stopping before you do a thing to ask yourselveswhether you ought to do it or not, and not wait until after the thing isdone to ask yourselves that question," suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. "Thatmight help some."
"Well, I won't go wading any more to-day," promised the little fellow."But I didn't think I'd get stuck in the mud."
Mrs. Bobbsey wanted to laugh, but she did not dare let the two smalltwins see her, for they would think it only fun, and really they oughtnot to have gotten wet and muddy.
"And so you couldn't find Snoop," remarked Mr. Bobbsey at supper thatnight. "Well, it's too bad. I guess I'll have to get you another dog andcat."
"No, don't--just yet, please," said Nan. "Maybe we'll find our own, andwe never could love any new ones as we love Snap and Snoop."
"Nope, we couldn't!" declared Flossie, while Freddie nodded his head inagreement with her.
"But you could get us some new go-around bugs," the little girl went on."We haven't found ours yet."
"That's so," remarked Mr. Bobbsey. "It's queer where they went to. Well,I'll see if I can get any more, though I may have to send to New York.But you two little ones must not go off by yourselves again, looking forSnoop."
"Could we go to look for Snap?" asked Freddie, as if that was different.
"No, not for Snap either. You must stay around camp unless some one goeswith you to the woods."
It was a few days after this, when Mrs. Bobbsey, with the four twins,went out to pick blueberries, that they met a number of women andchildren who also had baskets and pails. But none of them was filledwith the fruit which, now, was at its best.
"What is the matter with the berries?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey. "We have beenable to pick only a few. The bushes seem to have been cleaned of all theripe ones."
"That's what they have," said Blueberry Tom, who was with the otherpickers. "And it's the gypsies who's gettin' the berries, too."
"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey. "We haven't seen any gypsies on theisl
and."
"They don't stay here all the while," said Tom. "They have their campover on the main shore, and they row here and get the berries whenthey're ripest. That's why there ain't any for us--the gypsies get 'embefore we have a chance. They're pickin' blueberries as soon as it'slight enough to see."
"Well, I suppose they have as much right to them as we have," said Mrs.Bobbsey. "But I would like to get enough for some pies."
"I can show you where there are more than there are around here,"offered Tom. "It's a little far to walk, though."
"Well, we're not tired, for we just came out," said Mrs. Bobbsey. "So ifyou'll take us there, Tom, we'll be very thankful."
"Come on," said the boy, whose face was once more covered with bluestains. "I'll show you."
The other berry pickers, who did not believe Tom knew of a better place,said they would stay where they were, and, perhaps, by hard work theymight fill their pails or baskets, and so Tom and the Bobbseys went offby themselves.
Tom, indeed, seemed to know where, on the island, was one spot wheregrew the largest and sweetest blueberries, and the gypsies, if themembers of the tribe did come to gather the fruit, seemed to have passedby this place.
"Oh, what lots of them!" cried Bert, as he saw the laden bushes.
"Yes, there's more than I thought," said Tom. "I'll get my basket fullhere all right."
Soon all were picking, though Flossie and Freddie may have put intotheir mouths as many as went in their two baskets. But their mother didnot expect them to gather much fruit.
They had picked enough for several pies, and Mrs. Bobbsey was lookingabout for the two smaller twins who had wandered off a little way, whenshe heard Flossie scream.
"What is it?" asked her mother quickly. "Is it a snake?" and she startedto run toward her little girl.
"Maybe she's stuck in the mud, as Freddie was!" exclaimed Bert.
"Mamma! Mamma!" cried Flossie. "Come and get me!"
"She--she's all tangled up in a net!" cried the voice of Freddie. "Oh,come here!"
Mrs. Bobbsey, Nan, Bert and Tom ran toward the sound of the children'svoices.