Before she could stir, he sprang upon her like a giant and held her close to the fire, all the time laughing and shaking his head. I was on the canal, but I heard the mother scream and ran to her. The father had never loosened his hold, and her gown was smoking. I tried to deaden the fire, but with one hand he pushed me off. There was no water in the cottage or I could have done better, and all that time he laughed--such a terrible laugh, mynheer, hardly a sound, but all in his face. I tried to pull her away, but that only made it worse. Then--it was dreadful, but could I see the mother burn? I beat him--beat him with a stool. He tossed me away. The gown was on fire.! I WOULD put it out. I can't remember well after that. I found myself upon the floor, and the mother was praying. It seemed to me that she was in a blaze, and all the while I could hear that laugh.
Gretel flew to the closet and filled a porringer with the food he liked and put it upon the floor. Then, mynheer, he left the mother and crawled to it like a little child. She was not burned, only a part of her clothing. Ah, how kind she was to him all night, watching and tending him. He slept in a high fever, with his hands pressed to his head. The mother says he has done that so much of late, as though he felt pain there. Ah, mynheer, I did not mean to tell you. If the father was himself, he would not harm even a kitten."For a moment the two boys moved on in silence.
"It is terrible," said Peter at last. "How is he today?""Very sick, mynheer.""Why go for Dr. Boekman, Hans? There are others in Amsterdam who could help him, perhaps. Boekman is a famous man, sought only by the wealthiest, and they often wait upon him in vain.""He PROMISED, mynheer, he promised me yesterday to come to the father in a week. But now that the change has come, we cannot wait. We think the poor father is dying. Oh, mynheer, you can plead with him to come quick. He will not wait a whole week and our father dying, the good meester is so kind.""SO KIND!" echoed Peter in astonishment. "Why, he is known as the crossest man in Holland!""He looks so because he has no fat and his head is busy, but his heart is kind, I know. Tell the meester what I have told you, mynheer, and he will come.""I hope so, Hans, with all my heart. You are in haste to turn homeward, I see. Promise me that should you need a friend, you will go to my mother in Broek. Tell her I bade you see her.
And, Hans Brinker, not as a reward, but as a gift, take a few of these guilders."Hans shook his head resolutely.
"No, no, mynheer. I cannot take it. If I could find work in Broek or at the South Mill, I would be glad, but it is the same story everywhere--'Wait until spring'".
"It is well you speak of it," said Peter eagerly, "for my father needs help at once. Your pretty chain pleased him much. He said, 'That boy has a clean cut; he would be good at carving.'
There is to be a carved portal to our new summer house, and father will pay well for the job.""God is good!" cried Hans in sudden delight. "Oh, mynheer, that would be too much joy. I have never tried big work, but I can do it. I know I can.""Well, tell my father you are the Hans Brinker of whom I spoke.
He will be glad to serve you."
Hans stared in honest surprise.
"Thank you, mynheer."
"Now, captain," shouted Carl, anxious to appear as good humored as possible, by way of atonement, "here we are in the midst of Haarlem, and no word from you yet. We await your orders, and we're as hungry as wolves."Peter made a cheerful answer, and turned hurriedly to Hans.
"Come, get something to eat, and I will detain you no longer.'
What a quick, wistful look Hans threw upon him! Peter wondered that he had not noticed before that the poor boy was hungry.
"Ah, mynheer, even now the mother may need me, the father may be worse--I must not wait. May God care for you." And, nodding hastily, Hans turned his face homeward and was gone.
"Come, boys," sighed Peter, "now for our tiffin!"HomesIt must not be supposed that our young Dutchmen had already forgotten the great skating race which was to take place on the twentieth. On the contrary, they had thought and spoken of it very often during the day. Even Ben, though he had felt more like a traveler than the rest, had never once, through all the sight-seeing, lost a certain vision of silver skates which, for a week past, had haunted him night and day.
Like a true "John Bull," as Jacob had called him, he never doubted that his English fleetness, English strength, English everything, could at any time enable him, on the ice, to put all Holland to shame, and the rest of the world too, for that matter.
Ben certainly was a superb skater. He had enjoyed not half the opportunities for practicing that had fallen to his new comrades but he had improved his share to the utmost and was, besides, so strong of frame, so supple of limb, in short, such a tight, trim, quick, graceful fellow in every way that he had taken to skating as naturally as a chamois to leaping or an eagle to soaring.
Only to the heavy heart of poor Hans had the vision of the silver skates failed to appear during that starry winter night and the brighter sunlit day.
Even Gretel had seen them flitting before her as she sat beside her mother through those hours of weary watching--not as prizes to be won, but as treasures passing hopelessly beyond her reach.
Rychie, Hilda, and Katrinka--why, they had scarcely known any other thought than "The race, the race. It will come off on the twentieth!"These three girls were friends. Though of nearly the same age, talent, and station, they were as different as girls could be.
