FLOSSIE’S TARTS
Freddie Bobbsey was a resourceful little lad for his age. It was not
the first time he and Bert had gone exploring together, nor the first
time something had happened. So now, instead of rushing into the small
cave after his brother, as many boys or girls might have done, Freddie
turned to hurry back to his father and mother.
“I’ll go and get somebody to help you, Bert!” he called. “Maybe if I
went in I’d fall too, ’cause it looks dark! I’ll get help!”
Bert did not answer, and this made Freddie fear lest something serious
had happened. But even then he knew the best thing to do was to bring
help as quickly as possible.
Back he hurried to the others, running all the way. Mrs. Bobbsey could
tell by the look on her small son’s face and by his manner that
something unusual had taken place.
“Where’s Bert?” she quickly asked, for she remembered that the two boys
had gone into the deeper part of Buttermilk Glen together.
“He’s in the pirate’s cave!” answered Freddie, panting for breath. “He
hollered something about falling down and then he didn’t holler any
more and I came back to tell you!”
Instantly there was great excitement.
“In the pirate’s cave!”
“Is he lost?” Flossie wanted to know.
“You did right to come back so quickly and tell us,” Mr. Bobbsey said.
“Do you know where this cave is?” he asked Mrs. Watson.
“Yes, I know of a cave,” she answered. “It isn’t a very large place,
nor is it dangerous. I can’t understand about Bert’s falling. There are
no holes in the place that I know of, though I haven’t been in it for
years.”
“Maybe he stumbled over a ledge and fell, striking his head,” suggested
Mr. Bobbsey, as he jumped up and went to his coat which was hanging on
a tree near by. He took some matches from one of the pockets. “I’ll
make a bark torch to go into the cave and find Bert,” he said to his
wife. “I didn’t bring the flashlight. Can you show me where the cave
is, Freddie?”
“I can lead you to the cave,” said Mrs. Watson, noticing that Baby
Jenny was still peacefully sleeping. “Nan, you and Flossie stay here
with her, and your mother and I will go with your father and Freddie to
the cave.”
Nan and Flossie would have liked to go, too, to search for Bert, but
they said nothing as they watched the others start.
It did not take them long to reach the place. Mrs. Watson had often
been to the glen on picnics and she knew all its windings and turns.
Soon they stood in front of the small cavern which Bert, in common with
other boys, had named “pirate’s cave.”
“Bert! Bert! Are you all right?” his mother called. But still there was
no answer.
“He didn’t speak to me, after he hollered about falling,” reported
Freddie.
“He must be in a faint, after falling and hitting his head,” suggested
Mr. Bobbsey. “I’ll go in with the torch and see.”
“I’m coming, too!” insisted Mrs. Bobbsey, while Mrs. Watson said she
would stay outside with Freddie.
Bert’s father pulled off some dry bark, and, twisting it into a torch,
set fire to it. This gave him and his wife light enough to see, though
rather dimly, as they entered the small cavern. It was just about high
enough to stand upright in, and seemed to be a cave that had been
hollowed out by the washing of high water in the glen.
Holding the torch before him, Mr. Bobbsey went inside, followed by his
wife. He had taken only a few steps before he suddenly cried:
“Stop! Don’t come any farther! There’s a hole here, and you may tumble
in!”
“Is Bert there?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey. Her husband flashed the torch down
and as far ahead of him as he could, and then he said:
“Yes, he’s here! And he seems to be all right, too. He’s moving. I
guess he was dazed by the blow on his head. Hold the torch, Mary, and
I’ll lift him out.”
This was done, and a little later Bert, in the arms of his father, was
carried out of the cave, his mother following with the torch.
“Is he all right?” asked Mrs. Watson.
Bert, getting down out of his father’s arms, answered for himself:
“Sure, I’m all right. What happened, anyhow?”
“You went into the cave, fell, and hit your head so hard that you
fainted,” his mother told him, while she parted his hair to look for a
possible cut or gash.
“Oh, I remember now,” Bert said, in a dazed sort of way, putting his
hand to his head. “I felt myself falling and I yelled to Freddie so he
wouldn’t come in and get in the hole. Yes, I hit my head all right.”
But it was nothing worse than this, and aside from a little cut on his
scalp Bert suffered no injury. A drink of water and some more of the
cool fluid on his head soon made him feel all right again.
“It isn’t safe to go into a dark cave without a light, unless you know
every step of the way,” warned Mr. Bobbsey, as they went back to where
Nan and Flossie had been left with the baby.
But before that was done Mr. Bobbsey explored the cave. He found that
the recent rain had washed out a deep hole near the entrance, and it
was this hole into which Bert had unsuspectingly stepped.
[Illustration: WADING. THE FOUR HAD LOTS OF FUN.
_The Bobbsey Twins at Cloverbank._ _Page 222_
]
“Some one else may do the same thing,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “I’ll put some
tree branches in front of the cave as a warning. Later we’ll make a
danger sign to fasten up over the entrance.”
They found Nan and her sister anxiously waiting, and the two girls were
relieved to find out that Bert wasn’t hurt much.
Baby Jenny had awakened by this time, and as it was nearly noon Mrs.
Bobbsey and Mrs. Watson decided to set out the picnic lunch, which was
done on a flat stump within sight and sound of Buttermilk Falls.
“Don’t eat too much, Bert,” his mother warned him, as the good things
from the basket were ready.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because after a blow on the head you might be made ill if you ate too
heartily.”
“Oh, I’m all right,” insisted the lad, with a brave little smile,
though his head ached somewhat. “I didn’t know what happened. I felt
myself going down and I yelled and then I seemed to go to sleep.”
The remainder of the day was passed pleasantly in the woods. Later the
other children were allowed to peer into the cave while their father
held a torch that illuminated it.
“I wouldn’t want to be a pirate and live there,” said Nan with a shrug
of her shoulders, as she turned away.
“Pirates don’t mind the dark--they like it,” said Freddie, as if he
knew all about it.
The next day was a busy one, for many peaches had to be sorted to be
taken to the auction market. The children rode to Hitchville again,
for they liked the busy excitement of the place. It was well that Mr.
Watson got a good quantity of his fruit over to Hitchville, for the
following day it rained, when it would not have been wise to transport
the peaches.
The rain storm was a hard one and, for midsummer, the day was raw and
cold. As the Bobbsey twins could not go out, they managed to have fun
in one of the barns. Sam Porter, who had gone fishing with Bert the day
the bees swarmed, came over and taught the children some new games.
He and Bert decided to give a “circus act,” as they called it. They
made trapezes of bits of harness and some old broom handles and swung
by their legs and arms.
“Watch me do the giant’s turn!” cried Bert, as he took an especially
long swing on the trapeze. But one of the straps broke, the end of the
trapeze bar slipped down, and Bert had a fall.
“Oh!” cried the other children, as they saw the boy drop.
But Bert came to no harm, for the trapezes were over big, deep piles of
hay, and he fell on one of these piles. Mr. Bobbsey, when he learned
what sort of a game the boys were playing, had insisted that the hay be
piled under the trapezes, for he was afraid lest they break.
“It’s lucky that hay was there,” Bert said. “I know now why they put
nets under the high trapezes in the circus.”
In the afternoon it had not cleared, and Nan, getting tired of playing
in the barn, went back to the house. She heard Mrs. Watson saying to
Mrs. Bobbsey:
“If I wasn’t so busy I’d make some peach tarts. There are plenty of
soft peaches that ought to be used.”
“Oh, could I make the tarts?” begged Nan. “I know how to make biscuits
and I guess I could make tarts.”
“I’ll show you how,” offered her mother, after Mrs. Watson had said Nan
might use the kitchen.
“And I want to make some, too,” put in Flossie.
“No, dear, you are too little,” Nan replied. “But you can watch me,
and, when you get a little older, you will know how.”
“But I want to make some myself,” insisted Flossie. However, they
would not let her, so she had to be content to sit in a chair near the
kitchen table and watch while Nan’s mother showed her how to mix the
dough and roll out the crust, cutting it into little circles which,
when filled with cut-up peaches and baked, would be tarts.
But when Nan had a batch of the tarts ready to go into the oven, she
left the kitchen a minute, and this was just the chance Flossie had
been waiting for.
“I know how to make peach tarts,” said the little girl to herself.
“I’ll show ’em I can make tarts just as good as Nan.”
All the things Nan had used were on the table, flour, milk, mixing
bowls, and the like. Flossie sifted some flour into a brown bowl,
poured in some milk, added a little salt and lard, and then began to
stir the mixture.
But she found that the table was too high for her to reach in comfort,
even while standing on a chair.
“I’ll set the bowl on the floor,” decided Flossie. “Then I can stir my
tarts and then I’ll cut them out, like Nan did, and put in the peaches
and bake ’em.”
She lifted the bowl off the table and was climbing down out of the
chair when suddenly she slipped. Just as Nan opened the door to come
back and clean up, she saw Flossie fall to the floor with the bowl of
dough.
Crash! What a sound it was!
“Oh!” cried Nan.
“Oh!” gasped Flossie.
And then you should have seen her!