Neither did Mr. Bobbsey for a moment or two, and as the men came crowding around him, one of them bringing up Flossie, a cry was heard, coming from one of the red-painted pipes not far away. It was not a loud cry, sounding in fact, as if the person calling were down in a cellar.
“Come and get me out! Come and get me out!” the voice begged, and when Flossie heard it she said:
“That’s him! That’s Freddie now. Oh, he’s down in the pipe yet!”
“Which pipe?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.
Flossie pointed to a ventilator not far away. Mr. Bobbsey and the men ran toward it, and, as they reached it, they could hear, coming out of the big opening that was shaped somewhat like a funnel, a voice of a little boy, saying:
“Come and get me out! I’m stuck!”
Mr. Bobbsey put his head down inside the pipe and looked around. There he saw Freddie, doubled up into a little ball, trying to get himself loose. Flossie’s brother was, indeed, stuck in the pipe, which was smaller below than it was at the opening—too small, in fact, to let the little boy slip through. So he was in no danger of falling.
“Oh, Freddie! what made you get in there?” asked his father, as he reached in, and, after pulling and tugging a bit, managed to get him out. “What made you do it?”
“I was hiding away from Flossie,” answered the little fellow. “I crawled in the pipe, and then I waited for her to come and find me. She didn’t know where I was.”
“Yes, I did so know where you went,” declared Flossie. “I saw you crawl into the pipe, and I didn’t peek, either. I just opened my eyes and I saw you go into the pipe, and I was scared and I ran and told mother.”