A MISSING COAT
Mr. Bobbsey came hurrying over to the ice cream pavilion, with Bert
almost running beside him to keep up with his father.
"What's all this, Mother?" asked Mr. Bobbsey, who, with his coat off and
his sleeves rolled up, was working hard to help the ladies at the Sunday
school picnic. "What's all this about a merry-go-round coming here?"
"I don't know that it is coming here," answered Mrs. Bobbsey, with a
smile. "But some sort of affair is thundering along the road. You can
see the crowd of children near it. A merry-go-round some one said. I
thought perhaps some men owning one of those traveling affairs had heard
about our picnic and had come here to set up a machine. We don't want
anything like that."
"No," agreed Mr. Bobbsey with a smile. "We don't. I'll go see about it,"
and off he went, followed by Bert. Nan, with Flossie and Freddie, had
already joined the group of children down near the road that extended
along one edge of the picnic grove.
As Bert and his father neared the place, a loud, hissing sound was heard
and a white cloud of steam shot into the air, while the little ones
screamed and scattered.
"What's that?" cried Bert.
"I hope those youngsters don't go too near!" murmured Mr. Bobbsey. "The
safety valve of his steam engine is blowing off. He's got too much
pressure on. It may be dangerous," and Mr. Bobbsey broke into a run,
which Bert imitated as well as he could with his shorter legs.
However, there was no great danger. As Mr. Bobbsey had said, the safety
valve of a steam engine, on one of the trucks which carried the
merry-go-round outfit, was blowing off, and a short, stout man, with a
very red face, and a lanky boy, wearing ragged clothes, were working
about the engine.
"Keep back, children! Keep back!" called Mr. Bobbsey, as he reached the
road. "This merry-go-round isn't going to be set up here. Keep back out
of danger!"
"That's what I wish they'd do, mister!" said the red-faced man in no
very friendly voice. "They're under foot, and some of 'em may get
stepped on. I've got trouble enough without a bunch of kids getting in
the way."
He did not speak very nicely of children, Bert thought, and Nan was
evidently of the same opinion from the way in which she looked at her
brother. Flossie and Freddie thought nothing of this. They were too
excited in looking at the merry-go-round outfit.
This fun-making machine was loaded on four large trucks, hauled by four
sturdy horses each. On one truck was an engine, with a fire in it and
smoke and steam coming from it. It was this that seemed to be causing
the trouble which the red-faced man and the lanky boy were trying to
make better.
Behind the engine truck, which was in the lead, were three other trucks,
and the drivers of the horses kept to their seats, not offering to help
the red-faced man.
The three trucks were piled high with the frame and roof of the
merry-go-round. There were posts, boards, long iron rods, greasy cog
wheels and all sorts of queer things. But what interested the children
most were the wooden animals that made up the more showy part of the
merry-go-round. There were horses, lions, tigers, camels, elephants,
zebras, an ostrich and a cow.
"Oh, I want to ride on the cow!" cried Freddie.
"I'm going to get on the lion's back!" exclaimed Flossie.
"No, I want the lion, you can have the cow!" yelled Freddie. "I want the
lion!"
"I had him first! I choosed him first an' he's mine! Daddy, can't I have
the lion?" begged Flossie.
"Hush, children!" said Mr. Bobbsey, as Freddie opened his mouth to wail
that he wanted the king of beasts. "The merry-go-round isn't going to be
set up here. No one is going to get a ride."
"That's what, mister!" exclaimed the red-faced man. "I'm not going to
stop here. I'm on my way to the Bolton County Fair with this
merry-go-round outfit. I'm going to be there for a week or more. Just
had a little trouble with this engine. I got steam up on it while on the
road to see what the matter was."
"Is it fixed now?" asked Mr. Bobbsey.
"Yes, seems to be. Here, Bob," he called to the lanky boy, "haul the
fire now, and we'll let her cool down. I guess she'll work now. Got up a
good steam pressure, anyhow."
The ragged boy did something to the engine, when suddenly a burst of
melody struck on the ears of all, and from an organ there was ground out
a gay dancing tune.
"Oh, music!" cried Flossie.
"Where's the hand organ monkey?" Freddie wanted to know.
"I'm going to get Grace and we can dance!" exclaimed Nan, for she and
her chums did simple little dances at school.
"I want to see the monkey!" wailed Freddie again.
"There isn't any monkey," Bert said. "It isn't exactly a hand organ.
It's one that works by steam, I imagine," he said. "It's part of the
merry-go-round."
"That's right. It's a good organ, too," said the ragged, lanky boy, who
was working away at the engine, while the red-faced man had started for
the front of the truck. Hearing the melody the red-faced man turned to
the boy and angrily cried:
"Here! I didn't tell you to turn that music on! Shut it off, do you
hear!"
"My, what a cross man!" said Flossie, in what she meant to be a whisper.
"Hush!" her father said.
"Shut that organ off! What'd you turn it on for, Bob?" grumbled the man.
"I didn't turn it on, Mr. Blipper. It turned itself on--too much steam,
I guess."
"Well, shut it off, do you hear! I don't want to play music when I don't
get any money for it. Shut it off!"
The boy did something to the engine and the organ music died away in a
sad wail.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Flossie.
"Now we can't have any dance," lamented Nan.
"How long are you going to stop here, Mr.--er--did I understand your
name was Blipper?" asked Mr. Bobbsey, thinking he might arrange to have
the organ played a little while for the children.
"Blipper is my name--Aaron Blipper," answered the man. "Sole owner and
proprietor of Blipper's Merry-Go-Round which will exhibit for a week,
and maybe more, at the Bolton County Fair."
"My name is Bobbsey," went on the father of the twins. "Your name and
mine have the same first letter, anyhow. I was going to say that if you
were going to remain here a while I'd give you a dollar to let the organ
play for the children. This is a Sunday school picnic."
"I guessed it was," said Mr. Blipper. "Well, if you was to give me a
dollar I'd have Bob turn the music on again. I think a dollar will pay
for what coal I burn in the engine. The organ is worked by the engine. I
can't turn it by hand, or I'd let Bob do that. But I'll play for a
dollar."
"Here you are then," said Mr. Bobbsey, and he passed over a bill.
"Turn the organ on, Bob!" ordered Mr. Blipper. "And while we're waiting
here get a pail and water the horses. Might as well make yourself useful
as well as ornamental."
To the Bobbsey twins it seemed that Bob had been making himself busy, if
not useful, ever since the merry-go-round had halted near the picnic
grounds.
The boy turned a handle and once more the organ began grinding out music
of one kind or another. It was not very good, of course, but it pleased
the children. Soon Flossie and Freddie were dancing on the green grass
beside the road, and Nan and many of the other children were also
enjoying themselves in this way. Though it was a Sunday school picnic,
such simple dances as the children did could not be found fault with by
any one.
Bert and his especial chums did not dance. They walked about the trucks
of the merry-go-round, looking at the wooden animals. Mainly, however,
they were interested in the steam engine which not only turned the
machine around, once it was set up, but also played the organ.
"I'd like to see this thing going," said Charlie Mason.
"So would I," agreed Dannie Rugg.
"Maybe my father will take me to the Bolton County Fair," remarked Bert.
"If he does I'll have a ride."
Then the ragged boy, who had been watering the horses, while the drivers
dozed on their high seats, came up with an empty pail. He looked at the
engine, changed the organ so that it played a different tune and let
some hot water run out of a little faucet.
"Do you know how to run the engine?" asked Bert.
"Sure I do!"
"What's your name?" asked Charlie.
"Bob."
"Bob what?" Dannie wanted to know.
"Bob Guess."
"Bob Guess! That's a queer name," remarked Bert.
"Well, it isn't exactly my real name," the ragged lad went on. "I'm an
orphan. I haven't had any real folks in a long time. I was taken out of
the asylum by this man, so he says. He adopted me, I reckon, and he
said he gave me that name 'cause he had to _guess_ what my real name
was. So I'm called Bob Guess."
"A queer name," murmured Bert. "But I'd like to know how to work a steam
engine."
"So'd I!" agreed the other boys.
"Pooh! It's easy," said Bob Guess, who seemed to like to show off. For
he turned another little faucet, thereby sending out a cloud of steam,
and causing Charlie Mason to jump back.
"Don't be skeered! It won't hurt you!" laughed Bob.
"Isn't it hot?"
"Not after it comes from the boiler. Look, I can hold my hand right in
it," which Bob Guess did, letting a cloud of steam envelop both his
rather dirty hands.
"Whew!" whistled Dannie, in amazement.
"I'm going to try it!" said Bert, rightly guessing that at a short
distance from the faucet the steam cooled off; which was true, as you
know if you have ever "felt" of the steam coming from a house radiator
on a cold day.
But as Bert stretched out his hand to test the steam as Bob had done,
Mr. Blipper called from where he stood talking to the driver of the last
truck.
"Stop monkeying with that engine, Bob!" yelled the red-faced man. "You
want to get it all out of kilter again!"
"I was only testin' the steam gauge," the boy answered.
"Well, you let it alone, do you hear, and water the horses."
"I have watered 'em!"
"Well, water 'em some more! I'm not going to stop again till I get to
the Bolton County Fair if I can help it."
"He's sort of cross, isn't he?" asked Charlie, as Bob moved off.
"More than that--he's mean!" declared the ragged lad.
Bert and his chums stood looking at the steam engine and listening to
the organ, while Nan and the smaller children danced. Then up came Mr.
Blipper.
"I guess this is a dollar's worth of music," he announced.
"I believe so," agreed Mr. Bobbsey, with a smile. "The children have
enjoyed it. Thank you!"
"Um!" grunted Mr. Blipper. "Here you, Bob!" he roared. "Come and shut
off this steam. We're going to travel!"
He climbed up on the seat, and Bob, after hanging the water pail on a
hook beneath the truck, shut off the engine. The organ ceased playing,
and the trucks containing the merry-go-round lumbered off.
"Good-by!" called the Bobbsey twins.
"Good-by!" echoed Bob Guess.
"I wonder if we'll ever see him again," murmured Bert.
And he was to see the strange lad again, under queer circumstances.
"Come, children, your ice cream will get cold!" called Mrs. Bobbsey, who
had come from the pavilion to summon the little guests.
"Ice cream get cold! Ha! Ha!" laughed Grace Lavine.
"I like mine cold," chuckled Dannie Rugg.
Back across the fields ran the merry, laughing children. The Sunday
school picnic, in spite of the danger at the bridge, had turned out most
wonderfully.
Soon the caravan of the merry-go-round was but a series of faint specks
down the dusty road. It was taking a route that would not take it across
the broken bridge.
The Bobbsey twins and their friends sat about eating ice cream and cake,
and some of them talked about the strange boy and the organ that was
played by steam.
"I'm going to have an organ like that when I grow up," said Freddie.
"An' I'm goin' to help you play it, an' ride on a lion," added Flossie,
and the others laughed.
Picnics, however delightful, cannot go on forever, and this one came to
an end as the afternoon shadows were falling. Mr. Bobbsey had been very
busy helping his wife and the other ladies, and now, as the time came
for him to go home in the small auto in which he and his wife had ridden
to the grove, he rolled down his sleeves, and looked about him.
"What are you after?" his wife asked.
"My coat. I hung it on a tree limb right here, I thought."
"Yes, I saw you," said Nan.
"But it isn't here now!" her father went on.
"Here's some sort of coat," announced Bert, picking up one from the
ground under a tree near the ice cream pavilion.
"That's where I hung my coat," said Mr. Bobbsey. "And this coat isn't
mine. Mine was a good, new one. This is an old, ragged one. Dear me! I
hope my coat hasn't been stolen! It had some money in one pocket, and
also some papers I need at the lumber office! Where is my coat?"