"Say, papa!" Bert exclaimed, suddenly, "I saw an old lantern up under
the seat in that stagecoach. Maybe it has some oil in it. I'll go
back and see."

"All right, son," replied the father, "we won't get far ahead of you."
And while Bert made his way back to the wagon, the others bumped up
and down through the fields that led to the vacant barn.

There was no house within sight. The barn belonged to a house up the
road that the owners had not moved into that season.

"I got one!" called Bert, running up from the road. "This lantern has
oil in, I can hear it rattle. Have you a match, pa?"

Mr. Bobbsey had, and when the lantern had been lighted, Bert marched
on ahead of the party, swinging it in real signal fashion.

"You ought to be a brakeman," Nan told her twin brother, at which
remark Bert swung his light above his head and made all sorts of funny
railroad gestures.

The barn door was found unlocked, and excepting for the awful
stillness about, it was not really so bad to find refuge in a good,
clean place like that, for outside it was very damp--almost wet with
the ocean spray. Mr. Bobbsey found seats for all, and with the big
carriage doors swung open, the party sat and listened for every sound
that might mean the return of the stage driver.

"Come, Freddie chile," said Dinah, "put yer head down on Dinah's lap.