“No,” answered Mr. Bobbsey, “but there is an old woodchopper, who lives in a log cabin near our town of Lakeport.  He makes a living by chopping firewood.  He lives all alone, and really sort of camps out.  Every one calls him Uncle Jack.  He was very good to Flossie and Freddie one day when they fell out of Bert’s ice-boat.

“Poor Uncle Jack!” went on Mr. Bobbsey, with a sigh.  “I am sorry to say I have bad news about him,” he went on to his wife, but the children heard, though he spoke in a low voice.

“Uncle Jack!” cried Nan.  “I hope he isn’t dead!”

“No,” answered her father, “but he is very ill, and he must go to a hospital, I am told.  It’s too bad about him.”

CHAPTER XVI

THE BIG ELEPHANT

“What’s the matter with Uncle Jack?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, “and how did you hear about him, Richard?” she asked her husband.

“I had a letter from my bookkeeper,” was the answer.  “Before we came away I left word that the poor old man must be looked after, and I arranged to have news of him sent on to me.  To-day I got a letter which says he is much worse than he has been, and really needs to go to a hospital.  I think I shall have to raise the money to send him.”

“Who is he?” asked Mr. Whipple.  “I am interested.  Who is this Uncle Jack?”

“He’s just the nicest man!” cried Flossie.  “He took us in when Freddie upset the ice-boat, and——­”

“I didn’t upset the ice-boat—­it upset itself!” Freddie cried.

“Easy now, children!  Don’t dispute,” said Mrs. Bobbsey gently.

“Uncle Jack is quite a character around Lakeport,” went on Mr. Bobbsey.  “I don’t know all his story, but he has lived in the woods for a number of years.  Where he was before that I don’t know.”

“He don’t know hardly anything about his folks, Daddy!” piped up Freddie.

“How do you know?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.

“He told us so,” put in Flossie.  “It was that day he took us in his house, after we got spilled from the ice-boat.”

“Well, perhaps that is right,” said Mr. Bobbsey, when the two small twins had told what Uncle Jack had related to them.  “They really know more about him than I do.  All I know is that he is a good, faithful old man.  He sells us wood and many of my friends buy of him.  We help him all we can.

“I suppose he must have had some folks once upon a time, but, as he says, he has lost track of them.  The bad news I have about him is that he needs to go to the hospital.  I think he will not get well if he does not have a good doctor.  He was so good to my children that I want to help him, and I am going to tell my bookkeeper to arrange for sending Uncle Jack where he can be taken care of.  I’ll pay the bill.  He wouldn’t take the money from me, but he won’t know about this.”

“Just a minute,” said Mr. Whipple, as he led the way down to the restaurant in his store.  “You say this old man lives in the woods?”