Kabanata Kabanata 14 · Hans

. Hans

“Donder and Blixin!” cried Carl angrily, before the party had skated

twenty yards from the city gates, “if here isn’t that wooden-skate

ragamuffin in the patched leather breeches. That fellow is everywhere,

confound him! We’ll be lucky,” he added, in as sneering a tone as he

dared to assume, “if our captain doesn’t order us to halt and shake

hands with him.”

“Your captain is a terrible fellow,” said Peter pleasantly, “but this

is a false alarm, Carl. I cannot spy your bugbear anywhere among the

skaters. Ah, there he is! Why, what is the matter with the lad?”

Poor Hans! His face was pale, his lips compressed. He skated like one

under the effects of a fearful dream. Just as he was passing, Peter

hailed him:

“Good day, Hans Brinker!”

Hans’s countenance brightened at once. “Ah, mynheer, is that you? It is

well we meet!”

“Just like his impertinence,” hissed Carl Schummel, darting scornfully

past his companions, who seemed inclined to linger with their captain.

“I am glad to see you, Hans,” responded Peter cheerfully, “but you look

troubled. Can I serve you?”

“I have a trouble, mynheer,” answered Hans, casting down his eyes. Then,

lifting them again with almost a happy expression, he added, “But it is

Hans who can help Mynheer van Holp THIS time.”

“How?” asked Peter, making, in his blunt Dutch way, no attempt to

conceal his surprise.

“By giving you THIS, mynheer.” And Hans held forth the missing purse.

“Hurrah!” shouted the boys, taking their cold hands from their pockets

to wave them joyfully in the air. But Peter said “Thank you, Hans

Brinker” in a tone that made Hans feel as if the king had knelt to him.

The shout of the delighted boys had reached the muffled ears of the fine

young gentleman who, under a full pressure of pent-up wrath, was skating

toward Amsterdam. A Yankee boy would have wheeled about at once and

hastened to satisfy his curiosity. But Carl only halted, and, with his

back toward his party, wondered what on earth had happened. There he

stood, immovable, until, feeling sure that nothing but the prospect of

something to eat could have made them hurrah so heartily, he turned and

skated slowly toward his excited comrades.

In the meantime Peter had drawn Hans aside from the rest.

“How did you know it was my purse?” he asked.

“You paid me three guilders yesterday, mynheer, for making the whitewood

chain, telling me that I must buy skates.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I saw your purse then. It was of yellow leather.”

“And where did you find it today?”

“I left my home this morning, mynheer, in great trouble, and as I

skated, I took no heed until I stumbled against some lumber, and while I

was rubbing my knee I saw your purse nearly hidden under a log.”

“That place! Ah, I remember now. Just as we were passing it I pulled

my tippet from my pocket and probably flipped out the purse at the same

time. It would have been gone but for you, Hans. Here”--pouring out

the contents--“you must give us the pleasure of dividing the money with

you.”

“No, mynheer,” answered Hans. He spoke quietly, without pretence or any

grace of manner, but Peter, somehow, felt rebuked, and put the silver

back without a word.

I like that boy, rich or poor, he thought to himself, then added aloud,

“May I ask about this trouble of yours, Hans?”

“Ah, mynheer, it is a sad case, but I have waited here too long. I am

going to Leyden to see the great Dr. Boekman.”

“Dr. Boekman!” exclaimed Peter in astonishment.

“Yes, mynheer, and I have not a moment to lose. Good day!”

“Stay, I am going that way. Come, my lads! Shall we return to Haarlem!”

“Yes,” cried the boys, eagerly--and off they started.

“Now,” said Peter, drawing near Hans, both skimming the ice so easily

and lightly as they skated on together that they seemed scarcely

conscious of moving. “We are going to stop at Leyden, and if you are

going there only with a message to Dr. Boekman, cannot I do the errand

for you? The boys may be too tired to skate so far today, but I will

promise to see him early tomorrow if he is to be found in the city.”

“Ah, mynheer, that would be serving me indeed; it is not the distance I

dread but leaving my mother so long.”

“Is she ill?”

“No, mynheer. It is the father. You may have heard it, how he has been

without wit for many a year--ever since the great Schlossen Mill was

built; but his body has been well and strong. Last night the mother

knelt upon the hearth to blow the peat (it is his only delight to sit

and watch the live embers, and she will blow them into a blaze every

hour of the day to please him). 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!”