More signs and wig-wagging, but few words were used in giving the directions necessary to lay the trap and bait it with one of Jane’s best corn beef sandwiches—it was in the lightest brown paper outside the inside wax paper, so that was sure to be corn beef.
Tom laid the rope in a ring just at the opening of the rocks as Mr. Doane directed, then Jerry very carefully placed the unwrapped sandwich right in the very center, and the two most important actors stepped back in line with the others.
“Your red sweater!” hissed Ranny. “They’re afraid of red.”
Mr. Doane agreed without saying so, but he looked so intelligently at Gloria that she crept back of him to hide her sweater and—her laugh.
“I see—him! Here he comes!” gasped little Neddie, and before any one could even say “So he does!” something sprang out from the rocks!
This was announced by so many that it doesn’t really matter who is credited with the identification, for the pretty deer-like, faun-colored goat deliberately gulped down the corn beef sandwich, while Ranny pulled the rope and captured the “wild animal.”
“Poor Mrs. Higgins has been looking for Nanny for two whole days—” said Gloria ruefully.
“She’ll have her tonight,” replied Mr. Doane. “But go easy with the rope, Ranny, and let the poor creature finish up the paper.”
“They love it,” added Blanche without a trace of disappointment in her voice. What’s a deer or a goat to animal hunters? Besides, Mrs. Higgins sold the goat’s milk to a delicate old lady who believed it had health value—every one knew that.
“We’ll tie her to a tree and eat our lunch,” suggested Mr. Doane, and the way that order was carried out left no suspicion of poor health demanding goat’s milk among any of those present.
But Nanny wasn’t home yet, and it was quite a sail over the tranquil waters, back to Barbend.
Greatly as they enjoyed the feast, and what is greater than a feast on the shores of a lake on a perfect autumn evening—still, the thrill of adventure enshrouded that little goat.
Mr. Doane did not give orders. He was one of those charming men who would not interfere with children’s plans unless he felt obliged to do so through some safety measure, so now, as each planned and the other contradicted as to the best method of getting Nanny across the lake and back to her little shed among Mrs. Higgins’ lima bean poles, Mr. Doane just ate his sandwiches and drank his lemonade as any guest of honor should have done.