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.
“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:
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.