Part 16 (1/2)
”All right,” said Freddie.
He and the other Bobbsey children often came to their father's yard to have good times, and James, or some of the men, was always told to look after the twins, if Mr. Bobbsey happened to be busy.
”h.e.l.lo, James,” called Freddie, as he walked over to the watchman.
”h.e.l.lo!” answered the man cheerfully. ”What are you doing here?”
”I've come to have some fun and play with you.”
”All right,” answered James. ”What shall we play first?”
CHAPTER XI
A QUEER PLAY-HOUSE
Freddie Bobbsey thought for a minute. He and James had played numbers of games on other days when Freddie was allowed to come to his father's lumber yard. This time Freddie wanted to think of something new.
”Do you want me to tell you a story?” asked the watchman, for this was one of the ”games.” James knew many fine stories, for he had used to live in the woods, and had chopped down big trees, which were afterward sawed into boards, such as were now piled about the lumber yard.
Freddie always liked to have the old watchman tell tales of what had happened in the woods, but this time the little chap said:
”Thank you, no, James. I want to do some thing else.”
”All right, Freddie. Shall we play steamboat, and shall I be the whistle?”
This was another fine game, in which Freddie got upon a pile of lumber and pretended it was a steamboat, while on the ground, down below, the watchman made a noise like a whistle, and pretended to put wood on the make-believe fire to send the steamboat along.
”No, I don't want to play steamboat,” Freddie said. ”But this game has a boat in it. Did you ever build a s.h.i.+p to go sailing in?”
”No, Freddie. I never did. Do you want to play that game?”
”Yes but I want to make a _real_ boat. You see Tommy Todd's father is lost at sea, and we are going to look for him. So I want to make a s.h.i.+p.
There's lumber enough, I guess.”
”I guess there is,” said James, looking around at the many piles of boards in Mr. Bobbsey's yards. ”There's enough lumber, Freddie, but I don't know about making a s.h.i.+p. How big would it have to be?”
”Well, big enough to hold me and Tommy and my sister Flossie and Dinah, our cook. Dinah's very fat you know, James, and we'll have to make the s.h.i.+p specially big enough for her. Will you help me?”
”Why yes, I guess so, Freddie. That game will be as good as any to play, and I can do it sitting down, which is a comfort.”
”Oh, but it's going to be a _real_ s.h.i.+p!” declared Freddie. ”I've got the nails to put it together with, and string for the sails. I can use a stone for a hammer,” and he began to look about on the ground for one.
James scratched his head as he saw the bent and crooked nails Freddie had piled up on a bundle of s.h.i.+ngles near by. Then the watchman glanced at the tangle of string.
”As soon as I find a stone for a hammer we'll start,” Freddie said. ”You can get out the boards.”
James wanted to be kind and amuse Freddie all he could, for he liked the little boy. But to pull boards out of the neat piles in Mr. Bobbsey's lumber yard was not allowed, unless the boards were to be put on a wagon to be carted off and sold.
”I'll tell you what we'd better do, Freddie,” said the watchman at last.