Bert did not know just whom he expected to help him. He did not know how far he was from Mrs. Bimby’s cabin, nor how far he was away from Cedar Camp. All he knew was that he was in trouble and needed help. The only way was to shout as loudly as he could.
At his first call the wildcat at the foot of the rock snarled, growled, and tried to leap up. But the sides were too steep and smooth. Bert could catch glimpses of the animal when the snow came down a little less heavily now and again, making a sort of opening in the white curtain.
“Help! Help! Help!” cried Bert again and again.
Curiously enough it was Flossie and Freddie, who in the blizzard had wandered near to the rock, who heard Bert’s cry. Through the storm the voice came to them, though of course they did not know it was their brother calling.
“Hark!” exclaimed Freddie, who, with his sister, had been floundering about in the drifts, the small Bobbsey twins trying to find their former tracks in the snow so they could work their way back. But the flakes had fallen into their footprints, and had been blown over them so deeply that the prints were blotted out.
“Do you hear that?” asked Freddie of Flossie.
“Yes,” she answered, as the voice came to her ears. “It’s somebody saying he’ll help us.”
That is what she thought it was—someone wanting to help her and Freddie, not someone in need of help.
Again came the call, and it sounded so close that the two small Bobbsey twins knew which way to go to reach it.
“We’re coming! We’re coming!” shouted Freddie. “Come on, Rover! I guess that’s daddy coming to help us! We’re coming!”