CHAPTER XII

RESCUED

“What is it, Daddy?” asked Bert, who had also been awakened, more by Nan’s voice than by the noise in the night. “What is it?” he inquired again.

“Nan heard something. I guess we can all hear it now,” answered Mr. Bobbsey, as the sound of breaking twigs, branches and underbrush told of some large body advancing.

“Do you think it could be a—bear?” faltered Nan.

“Of course not,” laughed her father. “There are no bears in these woods. It may be another auto coming, breaking its way along a narrow road.”

“It sounds more like one of those war tanks we saw in the soldiers’ parade, Nan,” remarked Bert. “It’s coming over everything.”

And, truly, this seemed to be the case. Whoever or whatever it was, drew on crashingly. Nearer and nearer to the automobile came the loud sounds. Nan was almost ready to scream. Mr. Bobbsey had turned on the headlights again, but nothing showed directly in front of their glare.

Then, suddenly, Bert gave a yell and leaped to Nan’s side of the car.

“Oh! It’s coming into the auto!” he cried.

Nan looked through the celluloid windows of the side curtains and saw, in the gleam of the little light on the dash, the head and face of what, at first, she took to be a monster animal.

She opened her mouth to scream, but her father caught sight of the animal at the same time, and he gave a loud laugh. This kept Nan from screaming, and also made Bert turn around to look.

“It’s only a horse!” cried Mr. Bobbsey. “A wandering horse. It has been crashing its way through the underbrush, and now it has come to see what we are doing here, I suppose.”

“Oh! Only a horse!” faltered Nan, somewhat ashamed of her needless fear.

“Just old Dobbin, the horse!” chuckled her father.

“He made noise enough for a whole circus,” declared Bert. “And when I saw him looking in through the curtain I thought—well, crickity grasshoppers, I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m glad the horse came along,” said Mr. Bobbsey, as the animal, after sniffing at the automobile once or twice, continued on his wandering way, crashing through the masses of underbrush in the darkness.

“Well, I’m not,” declared Nan. “He frightened me.”

“Why are you glad about the horse, Daddy?” asked Bert.

“Because it shows there must be a farm near here, and we’ll find our way out in the morning,” was the answer.

“I hope so,” murmured Nan.

“Better go to sleep again,” suggested her father. “And don’t be frightened by any more noises. Noise can’t harm you, and there are no bears or other wild beasts in these woods.”

Nan and Bert curled up again, and were soon sound asleep, though their bed was not the most comfortable one they might have had. But being young and tired, they soon fell into a sound, healthy slumber.

Once again during the night Nan heard a noise. It was the distant hooting of an owl, who kept inquiring:

Who? Who? Who?

But Nan had heard owls before and knew what they were. So she paid little attention to this one, and was soon asleep again.

Mr. Bobbsey, however, was not so lucky. He nearly dozed off once or twice, but when he got to thinking of all that had happened during the day—the chase after the strange woman with the faded shawl, the old woman with the big frog, and how he had taken the wrong road and so become lost—it excited him a little and kept him awake.

“And I do hope the folks at home aren’t worrying too much,” thought Mr. Bobbsey. He knew his wife would worry a little—that could not be helped. He felt that she knew he would have sent word to her had it been possible. However, there was no telephone in the woods, but he made up his mind to talk to her as soon as possible in the morning—calling her up from the first telephone he reached.

In truth, Mrs. Bobbsey did worry some. But she felt that the children were safe with their father, and she knew her husband would have sent word had he been able. Baby May was somewhat troublesome, on account of cutting a tooth, and this kept Mrs. Bobbsey rather busy all night.

In the woods hours of darkness passed, and at last those waiting in the automobile saw another day coming. At least, Mr. Bobbsey noticed the growing light in the east. Nan and Bert were still sound asleep.

“I guess I’ll get out and stretch my legs—I’m all cramped up,” said Mr. Bobbsey to himself, when it grew a little lighter. “We’ll soon start and see where we come out.”

He slipped quietly from the car so as not to awaken Nan and Bert, and, walking a little way down the woodland road, he saw a spring of water. There he washed his hands and face, and felt much refreshed. He also took a long drink.

“Not much of a breakfast, but it will have to do,” chuckled Mr. Bobbsey. “I feel sorry for the children, though.”

However, Nan and Bert thought it rather jolly fun. When they awakened they, too, washed and drank at the spring, and then Bert brought out his cake of milk chocolate.

“Nan, you set the table and I’ll get breakfast,” he jokingly said. And Nan, joining in the joke, put three broad green leaves for plates on a flat stump.

“Now we’ll eat,” said Bert.

He was about to break the chocolate into three pieces, but his father said:

“None for me, Bert, thank you. I never could eat sweet stuff so early in the morning. You two eat it all and then we’ll start for home, if we can find the way.”

The boy broke the chocolate into two pieces, giving the larger one to Nan, for which she thanked him. She was very fond of chocolate, even in the morning. For that matter, so was Bert, and I give him credit for being unselfish. Not that he wasn’t a “regular boy.” Indeed, he had his faults—he wouldn’t have been a boy if he hadn’t had some. But he was of a generous nature.

“Please take a little bite of my breakfast, Daddy,” begged Nan, as she nibbled her chocolate.

“I really don’t want it,” her father said. But she prevailed on him to take a nibble, and so did Bert.

It did not take long to finish “breakfast,” and then Mr. Bobbsey started the automobile, which did not balk, refuse to go, or anything like that.

“Which way are you going, Daddy?” asked Bert, as he and his sister took their seats again.

“I don’t know that it makes much difference,” Mr. Bobbsey replied. “But I think I’ll travel back and see if we can get on the road we first took. This big rock doesn’t seem to be the right one. We must have turned off the road on which we were traveling, some distance back.”

On they chugged through the forest, but it was with lighter hearts now—hearts that were lightened by the smiling sun even as the dark woods were made less gloomy. They would certainly get out of the forest soon, they felt.

However, look about him as Mr. Bobbsey did, he could not tell where the main road was—at least, the road by which he had entered the forest in search of the strange woman.

He saw several wood roads leading off the one which he had traveled, and he tried to tell, by looking at the marks of automobile wheels, which was the way they had originally taken. But other cars had also gone over the same road, so the marks of the wheels of the Bobbsey car could not be picked out.

The twins’ father was about to decide to turn about and go the other way when suddenly, from just ahead of them, came a voice, shouting:

“Whoa there! Where you tryin’ to go? You’ve been out all night, an’ now you want to run away ag’in! Whoa, I tell you!”

“Sounds like somebody talking to a horse,” observed Bert.

“Maybe it was the horse that tried to get into our auto,” suggested Nan.

Then, around a bend in the road, came a lanky farmer boy, of not more than fourteen, leading a horse. Whether it was the same animal that had frightened Nan and Bert could not be said for certain at once, though, later, they learned that it was.

The boy, leading the horse, advanced toward the automobile, which Mr. Bobbsey had stopped.

“Mornin’, neighbors,” called the youth pleasantly and not at all bashfully. “You’re out early.”

“I might say the same of you,” remarked Mr. Bobbsey. “We’ve been out all night—lost in the woods. Can you put me on the road to Hankertown?”

“Straight ahead and take the first turn to the left,” said the lad. “You’re on the old lumber road that isn’t used much any more. This horse seems to like it, for he ran away last night and I only just found him.”

“I think we found him first,” said Mr. Bobbsey, and he described the visit of the animal in the night.

“I reckon that was our horse,” the boy said. “It’s just like old Jim to go pokin’ his nose in where he isn’t wanted. Hope he didn’t do any damage.”

“Not any,” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “And I’m much obliged to you for setting us right. I got all mixed up on these wood roads. Is there any restaurant or eating place before I get to Hankertown?”

“Restaurant? Good land, no! But say! ain’t you folks had any breakfast?” he demanded.

“Not yet,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

“Well, neither have I, but I reckon on havin’ some right soon. Our house is only about a mile back, on another road. If you want to go there my mother’ll be glad to give you something hot.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble her,” objected Mr. Bobbsey.

“No trouble at all. She likes to have folks to meals. Say, I believe I could sit on the back of your machine and lead old Jim along by his halter, if you didn’t go too fast. Then I could be right there with you and explain.”

“Thank you, I wish you would,” replied Mr. Bobbsey. And the farmer boy was soon sitting on the back seat, between Nan and Bert, while, following behind, led by the long halter, was Jim, the midnight-wandering horse.

“There’s our place,” said Silas Remington, which proved to be the name of the farmer boy. “Drive right up. My mother’ll be s’prised to see me comin’ back in style, I reckon,” and he chuckled as he pointed out a small house set in a little clearing of the woods.