ease you carry the tail end, Freddie."

"All right, Flossie, I will. But we had better go now, or maybe Momsie
or Nan or Bert or Dinah might come out and tell us not to go. Come on!"

So, hand in hand, now and then looking back to make sure no one saw them
to order them back, Flossie and Freddie started out to search for the
lost Snoop. They wandered here and there about the island, at first not
very far from the camp. When they were near the tents they did not call
the cat's name very loudly for fear of being heard.

"We can call him loud enough when we get farther away," said Freddie.

"Yep," agreed his sister. "Anyhow he isn't near the tents or he'd've
come back before this."

So the two little twins wandered farther and farther away until they
were well to the middle of the island, and out of sight of the white
tents.

"Snoop! Snoop! Snoop!" they called, but though they heard many noises
made by the birds, the squirrels and insects of the woods, there was no
answering cry from their cat.

After a while they came to a place where a little brook flowed between
green, mossy banks. It was a hot day and the children were warm and
tired.

"Oh, I'm goin' in wading!" cried Freddie, sitting down and taking off
his shoes and stockings.

"You hadn't better," said Flossie. "Mamma mightn't like it."

"I'll tell her how nice it was when I get home," said the little fellow,
"and then she'll say it was all right. Come on, Flossie."

"No, I've got clean white stockin's on and I don't want to get 'em all
dirty."

"Huh! They've got some dirt on 'em now."

"Well, they aren't wet and they'd get wet if I went in wading."

"Not if you took 'em off."

"Yes they would, 'cause I never can get my feet dry on the grass like
you do. You go in wading, Freddie, and I'll sit here an' watch you."

So Freddie stepped into the cool water and shouted with glee. Then he
waded out a little farther and soon a queer look came over his face.
Flossie saw her brother sink down until the brook came up to the lower
edge of his knickerbockers, wetting them, while Freddie cried:

"Oh, I'm caught! I'm caught. Flossie, help me! I'm caught!"

CHAPTER XVIII

FLOSSIE IS TANGLED

Flossie Bobbsey, who had been sitting on the cleanest and dryest log she
could find near the edge of the stream to watch Freddie wade, jumped up
as she heard him cry. She had been wishing she was with him, white
stockings or none.

"Oh, Freddie, what's the m