Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates

by Mary Mapes Dodge

  XXII

  THE RED LION BECOMES DANGEROUS

  The boys were glad to find a blazing fire awaiting them upon theirreturn to the "Red Lion." Carl and his party were there first. Soonafterward Peter and Jacob came in. They had inquired in vain concerningDr. Boekman. All they could ascertain was that he had been seen inHaarlem that morning.

  "As for his being in Leyden," the landlord of the Golden Eagle had saidto Peter, "the thing is impossible. He always lodges here when in town.By this time there would be a crowd at my door waiting to consulthim--Bah! people make such fools of themselves!"

  "He is called a great surgeon," said Peter.

  "Yes, the greatest in Holland. But what of that? What of being thegreatest pill-choker and knife-slasher in the world? The man is a bear.Only last month on this very spot, he called me _a pig_, before threecustomers!"

  "No!" exclaimed Peter, trying to look surprised and indignant.

  "Yes, master--A PIG," repeated the landlord, puffing at his pipe with aninjured air. "Bah! if he did not pay fine prices and bring customers tomy house I would sooner see him in the Vliet canal than give himlodgment."

  Perhaps mine host felt that he was speaking too openly to a stranger, orit may be he saw a smile lurking in Peter's face, for he added sharply:

  "Come, now, what more do you wish? Supper? Beds?"

  "No, mynheer, I am but searching for Dr. Boekman."

  "Go find him. He is not in Leyden."

  Peter was not to be put off so easily. After receiving a few more roughwords, he succeeded in obtaining permission to leave a note for thefamous surgeon, or rather, he _bought_ from his amiable landlord theprivilege of writing it there, and a promise that it should be promptlydelivered when Dr. Boekman arrived. This accomplished, Peter and Jacobreturned to the "Red Lion."

  This inn had once been a fine house, the home of a rich burgher; but,having grown old and shabby, it had passed through many hands, untilfinally it had fallen into the possession of Mynheer Kleef. He was fondof saying as he looked up at its dingy, broken walls--"mend it, andpaint it, and there's not a prettier house in Leyden." It stood sixstories high from the street. The first three were of equal breadth butof various heights, the last three were in the great, high roof, andgrew smaller and smaller like a set of double steps until the top onewas lost in a point. The roof was built of short, shining tiles, and thewindows, with their little panes, seemed to be scattered irregularlyover the face of the building, without the slightest attention tooutward effect. But the public room on the ground floor was thelandlord's joy and pride. He never said "mend it, and paint it," there,for everything was in the highest condition of Dutch neatness and order.If you will but open your mind's eye you may look into the apartment.

  Imagine a large, bare room, with a floor that seemed to be made ofsquares cut out of glazed earthen pie-dishes, first a yellow piece, thena red, until the whole looked like a vast checker-board. Fancy a dozenhigh-backed wooden chairs standing around; then a great hollowchimney-place all aglow with its blazing fire, reflected a hundred timesin the polished steel fire-dogs; a tiled hearth, tiled sides, tiled top,with a Dutch sentence upon it; and over all, high above one's head, anarrow mantel-shelf, filled with shining brass candle-sticks,pipe-lighters and tinder-boxes. Then see in one end of the room, threepine tables; in the other, a closet and a deal dresser. The latter isfilled with mugs, dishes, pipes, tankards, earthen and glass bottles,and is guarded at one end by a brass-hooped keg standing upon long legs.Everything dim with tobacco smoke, but otherwise clean as soap and sandcan make it. Next picture two sleepy, shabby-looking men, in woodenshoes, seated near the glowing fireplace, hugging their knees andsmoking short, stumpy pipes; Mynheer Kleef walking softly and heavilyabout, clad in leather knee breeches, felt shoes and a green jacketwider than it is long:--then throw a heap of skates in the corner, andput six tired, well-dressed boys, in various attitudes, upon the woodenchairs, and you will see the coffee-room of the "Red Lion" just as itappeared at nine o'clock on the evening of December 6th, 184--. Forsupper, gingerbread again; slices of Dutch sausage, rye-bread sprinkledwith annis-seed; pickles; a bottle of Utrecht water, and a pot of verymysterious coffee. The boys were ravenous enough to take all they couldget, and pronounce it excellent. Ben made wry faces, but Jacob declaredhe had never eaten a better meal. After they had laughed and talked awhile, and counted their money by way of settling a discussion thatarose concerning their expenses, the captain marched his company off tobed, led on by a greasy pioneer-boy who carried skates and a candlestickinstead of an axe.

  One of the ill-favored men by the fire had shuffled toward the dresser,and was ordering a mug of beer, just as Ludwig, who brought up the rear,was stepping from the apartment.

  "I don't like that fellow's eye," he whispered to Carl; "he looks like apirate, or something of that kind."

  "Looks like a granny!" answered Carl in sleepy disdain.

  Ludwig laughed uneasily.

  "Granny or no granny," he whispered, "I tell you he looks just like oneof those men in the 'voetspoelen.'"

  "Pooh!" sneered Carl, "I knew it. That picture was too much for you.Look sharp now, and see if yon fellow with the candle doesn't look likethe other villain."

  "No, indeed, his face is as honest as a Gouda cheese. But, I say, Carl,that really was a horrid picture."

  "Humph! What did you stare at it so long for?"

  "I couldn't help it."

  By this time the boys had reached the "beautiful room with three beds init." A dumpy little maiden with long earrings met them at the doorway,dropped them a courtesy, and passed out. She carried a long-handledthing that resembled a frying-pan with a cover.

  "I am glad to see that," said Van Mounen to Ben.

  "What?"

  "Why, the warming-pan. It's full of hot ashes; she's been heating ourbeds."

  "Oh! a warming-pan, eh! Much obliged to her, I'm sure," said Ben, toosleepy to make any further comment.

  Meantime, Ludwig still talked of the picture that had made such a strongimpression upon him. He had seen it in a shop window during their walk.It was a poorly-painted thing, representing two men tied back to back,standing on shipboard, surrounded by a group of seamen who werepreparing to cast them together into the sea. This mode of puttingprisoners to death was called _voetspoelen_, or feet-washing, and waspractised by the Dutch upon the pirates of Dunkirk in 1605; and, again,by the Spaniards upon the Dutch, in the horrible massacre that followedthe siege of Haarlem. Bad as the painting was, the expression upon thepirates' faces was well given. Sullen and despairing as they seemed,they wore such a cruel, malignant aspect, that Ludwig had felt a secretsatisfaction in contemplating their helpless condition. He might haveforgotten the scene by this time but for that ill-looking man by thefire. Now, while he capered about, boy-like, and threw himself with anantic into his bed, he inwardly hoped that the "voetspoelen" would nothaunt his dreams.

  It was a cold, cheerless room; a fire had been newly kindled in theburnished stove, and seemed to shiver even while it was trying to burn.The windows, with their funny little panes, were bare and shiny, and thecold, waxed floor looked like a sheet of yellow ice. Three rush-bottomedchairs stood stiffly against the wall, alternating with three narrowwooden bedsteads that made the room look like the deserted ward of ahospital. At any other time the boys would have found it quiteimpossible to sleep in pairs, especially in such narrow quarters; butto-night they lost all fear of being crowded, and longed only to laytheir weary bodies upon the feather beds that lay lightly upon each cot.Had the boys been in Germany instead of Holland they might have beencovered, also, by a bed of down or feathers. This peculiar form ofluxury was at that time adopted only by wealthy or eccentric Hollanders.

  Ludwig, as we have seen, had not quite lost his friskiness; but theother boys, after one or two feeble attempts at pillow-firing, composedthemselves for the night with the greatest dignity. Nothing like fatiguefor making boys behave themselves.

  "Good-night, boys!" said Peter's voice
from under the covers.

  "Good-night," called back everybody but Jacob, who already lay snoringbeside the captain.

  "I say," shouted Carl, after a moment, "don't sneeze, anybody. Ludwig'sin a fright!"

  "No such thing," retorted Ludwig in a smothered voice. Then there was alittle whispered dispute, which was ended by Carl saying:

  "For _my_ part, I don't know what fear is. But you really are a timidfellow, Ludwig."

  Ludwig grunted sleepily, but made no further reply.

  * * * * *

  It was the middle of the night. The fire had shivered itself to death,and, in place of its gleams, little squares of moonlight lay upon thefloor, slowly, slowly shifting their way across the room. Something elsewas moving also, but they did not see it. Sleeping boys keep but a poorlookout. During the early hours of the night, Jacob Poot had beengradually but surely winding himself with all the bed covers. He now laylike a monster chrysalis beside the half-frozen Peter, who,accordingly, was skating with all his might over the coldest, bleakestof dreamland icebergs.

  Something else, I say, besides the moonlight, was moving across thebare, polished floor--moving not quite so slowly, but quite asstealthily.

  Wake up, Ludwig! The voetspoelen pirate is growing real!

  No. Ludwig does not waken, but he moans in his sleep.

  Does not Carl hear it--Carl the brave, the fearless?

  No. Carl is dreaming of the race.

  And Jacob? Van Mounen? Ben?

  Not they. They, too, are dreaming of the race; and Katrinka is singingthrough their dreams--laughing, flitting past them; now and then a wavefrom 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 fromone iceberg to another, and the shock awoke him.

  Whew! How cold he was! He gave a hopeless, desperate tug at thechrysalis. In vain; sheet, blanket and spread were firmly wound aboutJacob's inanimate form. Peter looked drowsily toward the window.

  "Clear moonlight," he thought; "we shall have pleasant weatherto-morrow. Hallo! what's that?"

  He saw the moving thing, or rather something black crouching upon thefloor, for it had halted as Peter stirred.

  He watched in silence.

  Soon it moved again, nearer and nearer. It was a man crawling upon handsand feet!

  The captain's first impulse was to call out; but he took an instant toconsider matters.

  The creeper had a shining knife in one hand. This was ugly; but Peterwas naturally self-possessed. When the head turned, Peter's eyes wereclosed 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. Theknife was laid softly upon the floor; one careful arm reached forthstealthily to drag the clothes from the chair by the captain's bed--therobbery was commenced.

  Now was Peter's time! Holding his breath, he sprang up and leaped withall his strength upon the robber's back, stunning the rascal with theforce of the blow. To seize the knife was but a second's work. Therobber began to struggle, but Peter sat like a giant astride theprostrate form.

  "If you stir," said the brave boy in as terrible a voice as he couldcommand, "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 gothim! I've got him!"

  The chrysalis rolled over, but made no other sign.

  "Up, boys!" cried Peter, never budging. "Ludwig! Lambert! Thunder! Areyou 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, youscoundrel, or I'll slice your head off!) Now, boys, cut out your bedcord--plenty of time--he's a dead man if he stirs."

  Peter felt that he weighed a thousand pounds. So he did, with that knifein his hand.

  The man growled and swore, but dared not move.

  Ludwig was up, by this time. He had a great jack-knife, the pride of hisheart, in his breeches pocket. It could do good service now. They baredthe 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,Pete!"

  "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 atlast--a long, stout piece.

  "Now, boys," commanded the captain, "lift up his rascally arms! Crosshis hands over his back! That's right--excuse me for being in theway--tie them tight!"

  "Yes, and his feet too, the villain!" cried the boys in greatexcitement, 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 mysleep."

  "Ugh!" grunted Lambert, still tugging away at the rope, "asleep, wereyou? well, we'll wake you up."

  The man muttered fierce oaths between his teeth--then cried in a piteousvoice, "Unbind me, good young masters! I have five little children athome. By Saint Bavon I swear to give you each a ten-guilder piece ifyou will but free me!"

  "Ha! ha!" laughed Peter.

  "Ha! ha!" laughed the other boys.

  Then came threats--threats that made Ludwig fairly shudder, though hecontinued to bind and tie with re-doubled energy.

  "Hold up! mynheer house-breaker," 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 intoour clothes; we're half perished."

  "What fellow? Donder!"

  "Hurrah for Poot!" cried all the boys, as Jacob sliding quickly to thefloor, bedclothes and all, took in the state of affairs at a glance, andsat 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, butbending as he did so to draw a pistol from his man's belt. "You see,I've been keeping guard over this pretty little weapon for the last tenminutes. It's cocked and the least wriggle might have set it off. Nodanger now. I must dress myself. You and I, Lambert, will go for thepolice. 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 afight 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 openthe door. The landlord almost tumbled in; he was armed with a bigblunderbuss. Two or three lodgers followed; then the daughter, with anupraised frying-pan in one hand, and a candle in the other; and, behindher, 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, morenimble than usual, rolled quickly from the robber's back.

  "Don't fire," cried Peter; "he is tied, hand and foot. Let's roll himover, and see what he looks like."

  Carl stepped briskly forward, with a blustering "Yes. _We'll_ turn himover, in a way he won't like. Lucky we've caught him!"

  "Ha! ha!" laughed Ludwig
, "where were you, Master Carl?"

  "Where was I?" retorted Carl, angrily; "why, I went to give the alarm,to be sure!"

  All the boys exchanged glances; but they were too happy and elated tosay anything ill-natured. Carl certainly was bold enough now. He tookthe lead while three others aided him in turning the helpless man.

  While the robber lay, face up, scowling and muttering, Ludwig took thecandlestick from the girl's hand.

  "I must have a good look at the beauty," he said, drawing closer, butthe words were no sooner spoken than he turned pale and started soviolently that he almost dropped the candle.

  "THE VOETSPOELEN!" he cried; "why, boys, it's the man who sat by thefire!"

  "Of course it is," answered Peter; "we counted our money before him likesimpletons. But what have we to do with voetspoelen, brother Ludwig? Amonth in jail is punishment enough."

  The landlord's daughter had left the room. She now ran in, holding up apair of huge wooden shoes. "See, father," she cried, "here are his greatugly boats. It's the man that we put in the next room after the youngmasters went to bed. Ah! it was wrong to send the poor young gentlemenup here so far out of sight and sound."

  "The scoundrel!" hissed the landlord, "he has disgraced my house. I gofor the police at once!"

  In less than fifteen minutes two drowsy looking officers were in theroom. After telling Mynheer Kleef that he must appear early in themorning with the boys and make his complaint before a magistrate, theymarched off with their prisoner.

  One would think the captain and his band could have slept no more thatnight; but the mooring has not yet been found that can prevent youth andan easy conscience from drifting down the river of dreams. The boyswere too much fatigued to let so slight a thing as capturing a robberbind them to wakefulness. They were soon in bed again, floating away tostrange scenes made of familiar things. Ludwig and Carl had spread theirbedding upon the floor. One had already forgotten the voetspoelen, therace--everything; but Carl was wide awake. He heard the carrilonsringing out their solemn nightly music, and the watchman's noisy clapperputting in discord at the quarter-hours; he saw the moonshine glide awayfrom the window, and the red morning light come pouring in, and all thewhile he kept thinking:

  "Pooh! what a goose I have made of myself!"

  Carl Schummel, alone, with none to look or to listen, was not quite sogrand a fellow as Carl Schummel strutting about in his boots.