Three little Trippertrots

All of a sudden, as the Trippertrot children were riding along on their funny horses, which had just galloped up out of the water to the dry land—all of a sudden, I say—Mary happened to look behind her, and there was Ivy Vine, the cat, running after them as fast as she could run, and her tail was sticking straight up in the air, like a clothes-post.

“Oh, look!” cried Mary. “Ivy Vine is coming, and she may get lost!”

“So might we get lost, if we go far enough,” answered Johnny. “We’d better wait for Ivy Vine, and she can show us the way home.”

“That’s right,” added Tommy. “We were lost once, and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” said Mary. “I think it was fun to be lost. Remember the good time we had.”

“Oh, look over there!” suddenly called Johnny. “There comes Fido, our dog! Now, surely we can’t get lost with him along. I say, let’s get off our horses and take a walk. My horse is tired, anyhow.”

“And so is mine,” said Mary. “Maybe if we walk along real slowly we’ll have an adventure.”

Then, pretty soon, up came Ivy Vine, the cat, and Fido, the dog, and, leaving their three funny horses in the grass, the Trippertrots and the dog and the cat started off. They walked along and along, and pretty soon they came to a little hill.

“Let’s go up this hill, and see what’s on top,” said Tommy.

“Yes. Maybe a nice fairy lives there,” spoke Johnny.

“No, don’t go up,” objected Mary. “We might fall down on the other side.”

“That’s so,” agreed Johnny. “I don’t want to fall down, because I’ve got on a new pair of stockings, and mamma doesn’t want me to get any holes in them.”

“Oh, you are too fussy,” spoke Tommy. “Why, we don’t have to fall down the other side. And besides, if we do start to slip, we can grab hold of Ivy Vine’s tail, and she can stick her sharp claws down in the grass on the hill, and we won’t slide any more.”

“That’s so. I never thought of that,” said Mary. “We’ll go up. Come on, Ivy Vine, I’m going to hold you, so if I happen to slip you can save me.”

“And Johnny and I will take Fido,” said Tommy. “His toenails aren’t as sharp as Ivy Vine’s, but he’ll do, I guess.”

So up the hill they went, slowly and carefully, with the dog and the cat, and they kept a close watch on every side, but they didn’t see any fairies, though in one place they saw growing some toadstools, that fairies use for umbrellas when it rains.

Then, presently, the Trippertrots were at the top of the hill, and it was a nice, flat, smooth place, all covered with grass; and they couldn’t have fallen off if they had tried with all their might; no, indeed!

And then, all of a sudden, Mary happened to look behind a tree that was growing on top of the hill, and she saw a nice old man sitting in a chair, on the edge of a little lake of water. Oh, he was a very old man, and he had such a nice, pleasant face, though you couldn’t see very much of it because he had so many whiskers. He had whiskers all over him, almost like Santa Claus.

“Look!” whispered Mary to her brothers. “I wonder who he is, and what he is doing?”

“I know what he’s doing,” said Johnny.

“What?” asked Tommy.

“He’s a fisherman,” answered Johnny. “Can’t you see his pole and line?”

“Oh, of course,” spoke Mary. “But I wonder what he is catching?”

“Let’s go up and ask him,” suggested Tommy.

“No, we mustn’t do that,” objected Johnny. “Fishermen never like to be bothered when they’re catching fish.”

“But maybe he hasn’t caught any yet,” said Mary, “and, of course, then he wouldn’t mind. We can go up to him, and we’ll tell him that as soon as he begins to catch any fish we’ll run away, and not bother him.”

“I guess that will do,” said Johnny. “Come on.”

So the three Trippertrot children walked softly up to the old fisherman, and when he saw them coming he waved his hand to them, not the hand that held the fishpole, you understand, but his other one, and he smiled in a very kind way, and said:

“Come right along, children. I heard what you said, and you won’t annoy me a bit. I like children.”

“Thank you,” said Mary politely. “But if you catch any fish we’ll go right away and not bother you.”

“Oh, but I never catch any fish,” said the old man, with a jolly laugh. “I’ve fished for years and years, right here, and never a fish have I caught.”

“That’s funny,” said Johnny. “We live near here, and I don’t remember ever seeing you before.”

“Ha! Perhaps that is because you never happened to look when I was sitting here,” said the man. “But you say you live around here?”

“Yes—yes—I—er—I guess so,” said Mary slowly.

“Can’t you be sure?” asked the old fisherman.

“No, sir,” answered Tommy. “You see, it’s this way. We are the Trippertrots, and we’re always getting lost. We start out somewhere, as we did to-day on our funny horses, and we don’t seem to go very far at all, but all of a sudden we’re lost. So we never know whether we’re near home or not.”

“I guess it’s that way now,” said Mary. “I don’t seem to remember this place at all,” and she looked all around. “It isn’t a bit like what I thought it was, and we didn’t seem to come so very far; and anyhow, we only started out from home a short while ago. But we’re lost, sure.”

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “Fido or Ivy Vine will show us the way home; or, if they can’t, perhaps this gentleman will.”

“To be sure,” said the fisherman, pulling up his line and looking at it, and then the children saw that instead of a regular sharp fish-hook he had a big hammock-hook on the end of his line.

“That’s a funny hook,” said Johnny.

“Isn’t it?” agreed the old fisherman, with a jolly laugh. “But I like it.”

“Maybe that’s why you never catch any fish,” said Tommy.

“I believe you’re right,” agreed the old man, with another jolly laugh. “I never thought of it in that way before, but I believe that’s the reason.”

“But if you don’t catch fish, what do you catch?” asked Mary, who was very curious.

“Oh, lots and lots of things!” exclaimed the fisherman. “It would take me a long time to tell you, for they are such funny things. The best way for me to do would be to show you what I catch. Now look at me carefully, and see what I pull up this time on my hammock-hook.”

So the old fisherman carefully lowered his hook and line into the little lake. Then he leaned back in his chair, and the Trippertrots stood around him. The old man closed his eyes.

“Ha! I have something!” he suddenly cried, and, quickly pulling up his line, there, dangling on the hammock-hook, was a pair of rubber boots.

“That’s funny,” said Mary.

“Oh, that’s nothing at all,” said the old fisherman. “Just you wait and see what happens next. I catch very funny things.”

So he put in his line again, just like Jack Horner put his thumb in the pie. Then the old fisherman pulled it out again—pulled out the line, you know, not Jack Horner’s thumb—and this time, dangling on the hammock-hook, was a nice rubber coat, such as children wear to school on rainy days.

“That’s strange,” said Tommy.

“Not at all,” said the old fisherman. “See what my next catch will be.” And what do you suppose it was? Why, when he pulled up his line the next time there was a big umbrella on the hook!

“There! What did I tell you?” exclaimed the fisherman.

And then, all of a sudden, before the Trippertrots could say anything—all of a sudden, I say—it began to rain. How it did pour! The drops splashed down all over, and made the grass quite wet.

“Oh! Whatever shall we do?” cried Mary.

“Quick!” cried the old fisherman. “Tommy, you put on the rubber boots and the rubber coat, and Johnny, you take the umbrella, and hold it over you and Mary. It’s big enough for two children. Lively now, and then run as fast as you can.”

“Where shall we run?” asked Tommy, as he put on the rubber boots.

“Run anywhere,” answered the old fisherman. “Anywhere. It doesn’t matter, as long as you get in out of the rain. Run! Run! I’ll run, too!” And catching up his chair in one hand, and his fishpole in the other, he ran as fast as he could after the children.

“Oh, I just know we’ll be lost again!” cried Mary sorrowfully.

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “This is jolly fun!”

“It certainly is,” agreed Johnny. “Maybe we’ll have another adventure. Come on, Ivy Vine and Fido.”

So on they ran, the Trippertrots and the old fisherman and the dog and cat; on and on through the rain, which kept coming down harder and harder, until pretty soon they saw a little house in the woods.

“Who lives there?” asked Mary.

“The false-face man,” said the old fisherman. “Come on. We’ll go in there out of the wet.”

So they started for the house of the false-face man, and they wondered what would happen when they got there.