“Hello, Bob!” called Nan, as she climbed up on a wooden horse, while Flossie and Freddie, with their father, looked for lions.

The strange boy glanced up in some surprise.  But when he saw Nan a smile came over his rather sad face.

“Oh, hello!” he said.  “How did you get here?”

“We came just now in my father’s auto.  Do you run the merry-go-round?”

“I help when Mr. Blipper isn’t here.  I take up the tickets after she starts.  Have you got your tickets?”

“Yes, daddy bought them.  My little brother and sister want to ride on lions.”

“There’s a pair right behind you,” said Bob Guess.

Nan turned and saw her father just finishing the strapping up of Flossie and Freddie each on a big wooden lion.  The small twins were smiling with delight.

“Gid-dap!” called Flossie to her lion.

“You shouldn’t say ‘gid-dap’ to a lion,” objected Freddie.

“What should you say?” asked Flossie, turning to look at her brother.

“You ought to say—­now—­er—­’Scat!’”

“That’s what you say to a cat!” declared Flossie.

“Well, then say ‘Boo!’ I guess that’s what you say to a lion,” went on
Freddie.  “Say ‘Boo!’”

The little girl looked doubtful.

“All right.  Boo!” cried Flossie, after a moment.

It was not quite time, however, for the merry-go-round to start.  Mr.
Bobbsey made his way along the platform to Bob, who stood near Nan.

“Where is Mr. Blipper?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.  “I want to see him.”

“He’s away to-day, Mr. Bobbsey,” was the answer.

“Away!  Oh, I am sorry,” was the reply of the Bobbsey twins’ father.

“This is his day off,” went on the lad.

“Will he be here to-morrow?”

“Yes, sir.  But look out now, she’s going to start!”

CHAPTER XII

ON THE TRACK

Creaking and squeaking as it slowly started, the merry-go-round began to go faster and faster until it was whirling rapidly, the music of the organ mingling with the shouts of the delighted children.

Seeing that Flossie and Freddie were all right, being strapped to their wooden lions, and that Nan could look after herself, Mr. Bobbsey took a seat in one of the gilded cars that were provided for older persons who did not like to sit astride a wooden animal.  He watched Bob Guess making his way around the carrousel collecting the tickets.  The boy seemed bright and very business like.

“He’s a good lad,” thought Mr. Bobbsey.  “I wish a better man than Mr. Blipper had charge of him.  I must look into this matter.”

At one place on the outside of the merry-go-round was a post with an arm extending down from it.  Into this arm, which was hollow, a boy dropped iron rings, with, now and then, a brass one among them.  Those whirling about on the carrousel could reach up and pull a ring from the arm, if they were quick and skillful enough.