The goat bleated again, but the sound did not seem near the tent, as it would have done if Whisker has been loose. Putting on his bath robe and slippers, Mr. Bobbsey took a lantern and went outside. Bert wanted to come with his father, but Mrs. Bobbsey would not hear of it.
"We want a little man in here to look after us," she said, smiling.
"Ain't I almost a man? I can make my fire engine go," Freddie said, forgetting his fright, now that the "big folks" were up, and the light in the tent was turned higher.
They could hear Mr. Bobbsey walking around outside, and they heard him speaking to the goat who bleated again. Mr. Bobbsey was as fond of animals as were his children, and Whisker was almost like a dog, he was so tame and gentle.
"Was the goat loose, Daddy?" asked Nan, when her father came back into the tent.
"No, he was tied all right in his little stable. It wasn't Whisker who brushed against Freddie, if, indeed, anything did."
"Something did!" declared the small boy. "Didn't I wake up?"
"Well, you might have dreamed it," said Nan. "You often talk in your sleep, I know."
"I did feel something bump me," declared Freddie, and nothing the others could say would make him change his idea.
"Did you see anything?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey in a low voice of her husband when the twins were in their beds again. Flossie's and Freddie's cots were moved over nearer to those of their parents', and they had dropped off to slumber again, after getting drinks of water.