The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore | Page 9

they did not break until they came in contact with the floor.
"I'm so sorry!" Nan faltered. "The car jerked so I could not keep it."
"Never mind, my dear," answered the nice old lady, "I just enjoyed that
game as much as you did, and if I hadn't stuck my eyes out so, they
would not have met your ball. So, it's all right. I have another pair in
my bag."
So the game ended with the accident, for it was now time to gather up
the baggage for the last stop.
CHAPTER IV
NIGHT IN A BARN
"Beach Junction! All off for the Junction!" called the train men, while
the Bobbseys and Mrs. Manily hurried out to the small station, where
numbers of carriages waited to take passengers to their cottages on the
cliffs or by the sea.
"Sure we haven't forgotten anything?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey, taking a
hasty inventory of the hand baggage.
"Bert's got Snoop and I've got Downy," answered Freddie, as if the
animals were all that counted.
"And I've got my hatbox and flowers," added Nan.
"And I have my ferns," said little Flossie.
"I guess we're all here this time," Mr. Bobbsey finished, for nothing at
all seemed to be missing.
It was almost nightfall, and the beautiful glow of an ocean sunset rested

over the place. At the rear of the station an aged stage driver sat
nodding on his turnout. The stage coach was an "old timer," and had
carried many a merry party of sightseers through the sandy roads of
Oceanport and Sunset Beach, while Hank, the driver, called out all
spots of interest along the way. And Hank had a way of making things
interesting.
"Pike's Peak," he would call out for Cliff Hill.
"The Giant's Causeway," he would announce for Rocky Turn.
And so Hank was a very popular stage driver, and never had to look for
trade--it always came to him.
"That's our coach," said Mr. Bobbsey, espying Hank. "Hello there!
Going to the beach?" he called to the sleepy driver.
"That's for you to say," replied Hank, straightening up.
"Could we get to Ocean Cliff--Minturn's place--before dark?" asked Mr.
Bobbsey, noticing how rickety the old stagecoach was.
"Can't promise," answered Hank, "but you can just pile in and we'll try
it."
There was no choice, so the party "piled" into the carryall.
"Isn't this fun?" remarked Mrs. Manily, taking her seat up under the
front window. "It's like going on a May ride."
"I'm afraid it will be a moonlight ride at this rate," laughed Mr.
Bobbsey, as the stagecoach started to rattle on. Freddie wanted to sit in
front with Hank but Mrs. Bobbsey thought it safer inside, for, indeed,
the ride was risky enough, inside or out. As they joggled on the noise of
the wheels grew louder and louder, until our friends could only make
themselves heard by screaming at each other.
"Night is coming," called Mrs. Bobbsey, and Dinah said: "Suah 'nough
we be out in de night dis time."

It seemed as if the old horses wanted to stand still, they moved so
slowly, and the old wagon creaked and cracked until Hank, himself,
turned round, looked in the window, and shouted:
"All right there?"
"Guess so," called back Mr. Bobbsey, "but we don't see the ocean yet."
"Oh, we'll get there," drawled Hank, lazily.
"We should have gone all the way by train," declared Mrs. Bobbsey, in
alarm, as the stage gave one squeak louder than the others.
"Haven't you got any lanterns?" shouted Mr. Bobbsey to Hank, for it
was pitch-dark now.
"Never use one," answered the driver. "When it's good and dark the
moon will come up, but we'll be there 'fore that. Get 'long there, Doll!"
he called to one horse. "Go 'long, Kit!" he urged the other.
The horses did move a little faster at that, then suddenly something
snapped and the horses turned to one side.
"Whoa! Whoa!" called Hank, jerking on the reins. But it was too late!
The stage coach was in a hole! Several screamed.
"Sit still!" called Mr. Bobbsey to the excited party. "It's only a broken
shaft and the coach can't upset now."
Flossie began to cry. It was so dark and black in that hole.
Hank looked at the broken wagon.
"Well, we're done now," he announced, with as little concern as if the
party had been safely landed on Aunt Emily's piazza, instead of in a
hole on the roadside.
"Do you mean to say you can't fix it up?" Mr. Bobbsey almost gasped.

"Not till I get the stage to the blacksmith's," replied Hank.
"Then, what are we going to do?" Mr. Bobbsey asked, impatiently.
"Well, there's an empty barn over there," Hank answered. "The best
thing you can do