“No, I didn’t say the deer came there steady,” said Mrs. Traddle, mixing Teddy’s name up in that way. “But the deer came last night and he ate up most of my garden. It was a big loss. Somebody has to pay for it.” “I’ll see about it,” said Mr. Benson, pushing the lawn mower to one side. He walked toward the house, followed by Mrs. Traddle. “Teddy!” called his father. “Come out here, please.” Teddy was already on his way to the side porch. Lucy followed him, whispering: “Oh, what do you suppose is going to happen?” Both children had heard the last of Mrs. Traddle’s remarks as they crossed the porch. “I don’t know,” Teddy answered. “Anyhow Mrs. Traddle can’t blame us for what a stray, mysterious deer did to her garden.” “Teddy,” began Mr. Benson as he saw his son. “What is this about your deer getting into the garden of Mrs. Traddle?” “It isn’t our deer at all,” Teddy explained. “Is there a deer?” his father wanted to know. “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Lucy. “I saw it. I was chased by it and so was Margie, yesterday.” “This is the first I have heard of any deer,” said Mr. Benson. “Where is it, Teddy?” “That’s what we don’t know. But we are going to find out. It is a mystery deer,” Teddy answered. Mr. Benson smiled at this. He had often heard his children speak of “mysterious” animals. But sometimes the animals were just that. “The reason we didn’t tell you about the deer last night,” went on Teddy, “is that you and mother were over to the church supper, and it was so late when you got home I forgot it.” “So did I,” added Lucy. “Well, tell me about it now,” suggested Mr. Benson. He was told the story of the deer--as much as Teddy and Lucy knew--and Teddy explained that he and his chums were going to try to get on the trail of the mysterious animal that day. “First we have to find Fatty Nolan,” said Teddy. “Is that the deer’s name?” asked Mr. Benson. “No. It’s the name of a new fat boy,” Teddy went on, laughing. “His father works part of Mr. Mason’s farm. Fatty saw a man with a lasso running across the fields. After the deer, maybe. We’re going to see if he caught the deer.” “Well, if he has,” said Mr. Benson, “you might tell the owner of the deer that Mrs. Traddle wants damages for her garden. All her corn and beans are gone.” “No, no!” hastily exclaimed Mrs. Traddle. “I didn’t say the deer sang a _song_. He just trampled and ate my garden. I didn’t even _see_ the deer. He came during the night.” “Well, it wasn’t our deer,” Teddy stated, taking pains to speak in a loud voice so Mrs. Traddle could understand. “But in my store I’m sure you said it was your deer,” insisted the confused old lady. “Well,” explained Teddy, “I meant we sort of called it our deer. We sort of feel we have to solve the mystery about it.” “Oh, well, then I guess I can’t blame you,” said Mrs. Traddle. “I’m sorry I made any trouble,” she went on. “But my poor garden is ruined.”