Nan and Flossie hurried to where their little brother had dug a hole in the earth.
"They're mice!" exclaimed Nan. "Oh, aren't they cute! Let's catch them. Call Bert or Harry."
While Flossie ran to tell Bert, Nan watched the tiny mice so that they would not get away.
"It's a nest of field mice," Harry told them.
"We'll put them in a cage and have them in our circus."
"But they're my mice," cried Freddie, "and I won't let anybody have them!"
"We're only going to help you take care of them in a little box. Oh, there's the mother—catch her, Harry," called Bert.
The mother mouse was not so easy to catch, however, and the boys had quite a chase after her. At last she ran into a tin box the boys had sunk in the ground when playing golf. Here Harry caught the frightened little creature.
"I've got a queer kind of a trap," Harry said. "It's just like a cage. We can put them in this until we build a larger one. We can make one out of a box with a wire door."
The mice were the smallest, cutest things, not larger than Freddie's thumb. They hardly looked like mice at all, but like some queer little bugs. They were put in the cage trap, mother and all, and then Bert got them a bit of cheese from the kitchen.