"The gypsies have taken Snap—really, Flossie, you must speak more correctly," said Mrs. Bobbsey. "But what do you mean about Snap's being taken?"
"He seems to be gone," reported Bert.
"We've looked everywhere for him, and now we're going to ask down the street," added Nan.
"But we've got Snoop," said Flossie, and so it was. "We"—that is, she and Freddie both—had the big black cat, one twin carrying the head and the other twin the hind legs. But Snoop was often carried that way and he did not mind.
"Snap not here? That is odd," said Mrs. Bobbsey. "Have you whistled and called to him?"
"Every way we know," replied Bert. "Listen!" and, putting his fingers in his mouth, he gave such a shrill whistle that his mother and Nan had to cover their ears, while fat Dinah, waddling to her kitchen window, cried:
"Good land ob massy! What am dat—a fire whistle?"
"I can whistle like that!" shouted Freddie, dropping his end of the black cat. As it happened to be the head end he was carrying, this left the hind legs to Flossie and poor Snoop was thus dangling head down.
"Miaou!" he cried sadly, and then he gave a wriggle, and another one, and got loose.
Freddie made a sort of hissing sound on his fingers—not at all a nice, loud whistle as Bert had done—but it was pretty good for a little fellow.