No. Carl is dreaming of the race.
And Jacob? Van Mounen? Ben?
Not they. They, too, are dreaming of the race, and Katrinka is singing through their dreams--laughing, flitting past them; now and then a wave from the great organ surges through their midst.
Still the thing moves, slowly, slowly.
Peter! Captain Peter, there is danger!
Peter heard no call, but in his dream, he slid a few thousand feet from one iceberg to another, and the shock awoke him.
Whew! How cold he was! He gave a hopeless, desperate tug at the chrysalis in vain. Sheet, blanket, and spread were firmly wound around Jacob's inanimate form.
Clear moonlight, he thought. We shall have pleasant weather tomorrow. Halloo! What's that?
He saw the moving thing, or rather something black crouching upon the floor, for it had halted as Peter stirred.
He watched in silence.
Soon it moved again, nearer and nearer. It was a man crawling upon hands and feet!
The captain's first impulse was to call out, but he took an instant to consider matters.
The creeper had a shining knife in one hand. This was ugly, but Peter was naturally self-possessed. When the head turned, Peter's eyes were closed as if in sleep, but at other times, nothing could be keener, sharper than the captain's gaze.
Closer, closer crept the robber. His back was very near Peter now. The knife was laid softly upon the floor. One careful arm reached forth stealthily to drag the clothes from the chair by the captain's bed--the robbery was commenced.
Now was Peter's time! Holding his breath, he sprang up and leaped with all his strength upon the robber's back, stunning the rascal with the force of the blow. To seize the knife was but a second's work. The robber began to struggle, but Peter sat like a giant astride the prostrate form.
"If you stir," said the brave boy in as terrible a voice as he could command, "stir but one inch, I will plunge this knife into your neck. Boys! Boys! Wake up!" he shouted, still pressing down the black head and holding the knife at pricking distance.
"Give us a hand! I've got him!"
The chrysalis rolled over, but made no other sign.
"Up, boys!" cried Peter, never budging. "Ludwig! Lambert!
Donder! Are you all dead?"
Dead? Not they! Van Mounen and Ben were on their feet in an instant.
"Hey! What now?" they shouted.
"I've got a robber here," said Peter coolly. "Lie still, you scoundrel, or I'll slice your head off! Now, boys, cut out your bed cord--plenty of time--he's a dead man if he stirs."Peter felt that he weighed a thousand pounds. So he did, with that knife in his hand.
The man growled and swore but dared not move.
Ludwig was up by this time. He had a great jackknife, the pride of his heart, in his breeches pocket. It could do good service now. They bared the bedstead in a moment. It was laced backward and forward with a rope.
"I'll cut it," cried Ludwig, sawing away at the knot. "Hold him tight, Peter!""Never fear!" answered the captain, giving the robber a warning prick.
The boys were soon pulling at the rope like good fellows. It was out at last--a long, stout piece.
"Now, boys," commanded the captain, "lift up his rascally arms!
Cross his hands over his back! That's right--excuse me for being in the way--tie them tight!""Yes, and his feet too, the villain!" cried the boys in great excitement, tying knot after knot with Herculean jerks.
The prisoner changed his tone.
"Oh--oh!" he moaned. "Spare a poor sick man--I was but walking in my sleep.""Ugh!" grunted Lambert, still tugging away at the rope. "Asleep, were you? Well, we'll wake you up."The man muttered fierce oaths between his teeth, then cried in a piteous voice, "Unbind me, good young masters! I have five little children at home. By Saint Bavon I swear to give you each a ten-guilder piece if you will but free me!""Ha! ha!" laughed Peter.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the other boys.
Then came threats, threats that made Ludwig fairly shudder, though he continued to bind and tie with redoubled energy.
"Hold up, mynheer housebreaker," said Van Mounen in a warning voice. "That knife is very near your throat. If you make the captain nervous, there is no telling what may happen."The robber took the hint, and fell into a sullen silence.
Just at this moment the chrysalis upon the bed stirred and sat erect.
"What's the matter?" he asked, without opening his eyes.
"Matter!" echoed Ludwig, half trembling, half laughing. "Get up, Jacob. Here's work for you. Come sit on this fellow's back while we get into our clothes, we're half perished.""What fellow? Donder!""Hurrah for Poot!" cried all the boys as Jacob, sliding quickly to the floor, bedclothes and all, took in the state of affairs at a glance and sat heavily beside Peter on the robber's back.
Oh, didn't the fellow groan then!
"No use in holding him down any longer, boys," said Peter, rising, but bending as he did so to draw a pistol from the man's belt. "You see I've been keeping a guard over this pretty little weapon for the last ten minutes. It's cocked, and the least wriggle might have set it off. No danger now. I must dress myself. You and I, Lambert, will go for the police. I'd no idea it was so cold.""Where is Carl?" asked one of the boys.
They looked at one another. Carl certainly was not among them.
"Oh!" cried Ludwig, frightened at last. "Where is he? Perhaps he's had a fight with the robber and got killed.""Not a bit of it," said Peter quietly as he buttoned his stout jacket. "Look under the beds."They did so. Carl was not there.
Just then they heard a commotion on the stairway. Ben hastened to open the door. The landlord almost tumbled in; he was armed with a big blunderbuss. Two or three lodgers followed; then the daughter, with an upraised frying pan in one hand and a candle in the other; and behind her, looking pale and frightened, the gallant Carl!
"There's your man, mine host," said Peter, nodding toward the prisoner.
Mine host raised his blunderbuss, the girl screamed, and Jacob, more nimble than usual, rolled quickly from the robber's back.
