Bab Bab 30 · Boys and Girls

. Boys and Girls

By the time the boys reached the village of Voorhout, which stands near

the grand canal, about halfway between The Hague and Haarlem, they were

forced to hold a council. The wind, though moderate at first, had grown

stronger and stronger, until at last they could hardly skate against it.

The weather vanes throughout the country had evidently entered into a

conspiracy.

“No use trying to face such a blow as this,” said Ludwig. “It cuts its

way down a man’s throat like a knife.”

“Keep your mouth shut, then,” grunted the affable Carl, who was as

strong-chested as a young ox. “I’m for keeping on.”

“In this case,” interposed Peter, “we must consul the weakest of the

party rather than the strongest.”

The captain’s principle was all right, but its application was not

flattering to Master Ludwig. Shrugging his shoulders, he retorted,

“Who’s weak? Not I, for one, but the wind’s stronger than any of us. I

hope you’ll condescend to admit that!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Van Mounen, who could barely keep his feet. “So it

is.”

Just then the weather vanes telegraphed to each other by a peculiar

twitch--and, in an instant, the gust came. It nearly threw the

strong-chested Carl; it almost strangled Jacob and quite upset Ludwig.

“This settles the question,” shouted Peter. “Off with your skates! We’ll

go into Voorhout.”

At Voorhout they found a little inn with a big yard. The yard was

well stocked, and better than all, was provided with a complete set of

skittles, so our boys soon turned the detention into a frolic. The wind

was troublesome even in that sheltered quarter, but they were on good

standing ground and did not mind it.

First a hearty dinner--then the game. With pins as long as their arms

and balls as big as their heads, plenty of strength left for rolling,

and a clean sweep of sixty yards for the strokes--no wonder they were

happy.

That night Captain Peter and his men slept soundly. No prowling robber

came to disturb them, and, as they were distributed in separate rooms,

they did not even have a bolster battle in the morning.

Such a breakfast as they ate! The landlord looked frightened. When he

had asked them where they “belonged,” he made up his mind that the

Broek people starved their children. It was a shame. “Such fine young

gentlemen too!”

Fortunately the wind had tired itself out and fallen asleep in the great

sea cradle beyond the dunes. There were signs of snow; otherwise the

weather was fine.

It was mere child’s play for the well-rested boys to skate to Leyden.

Here they halted awhile, for Peter had an errand at the Golden Eagle.

He left the city with a lightened heart; Dr. Boekman had been at the

hotel, read the note containing Hans’s message, and departed for Broek.

“I cannot say that it was your letter sent him off so soon,” explained

the landlord. “Some rich lady in Broek was taken bad very sudden, and he

was sent for in haste.”

Peter turned pale.

“What was the name?” he asked.

“Indeed, it went in one ear and out of the other, for all I hindered it.

Plague on people who can’t see a traveler in comfortable lodgings, but

they must whisk him off before one can breathe.”

“A lady in Broek, did you say?”

“Yes.” Very gruffly. “Any other business, young master?”

“No, mine host, except that I and my comrades here would like a bite of

something and a drink of hot coffee.”

“Ah,” said the landlord sweetly, “a bite you shall have, and coffee,

too, the finest in Leyden. Walk up to the stove, my masters--now I think

again--that was a widow lady from Rotterdam, I think they said, visiting

at one Van Stoepel’s if I mistake not.”

“Ah!” said Peter, greatly relieved. “They live in the white house by the

Schlossen Mill. Now, mynheer, the coffee, please!”

What a goose I was, thought he, as the party left the Golden Eagle, to

feel so sure that it was my mother. But she may be somebody’s mother,

poor woman, for all that. Who can she be? I wonder.

There were not many upon the canal that day, between Leyden and Haarlem.

However, as the boys neared Amsterdam, they found themselves once more

in the midst of a moving throng. The big ysbreeker *{Icebreaker. A heavy

machine armed with iron spikes for breaking the ice as it is dragged

along. Some of the small ones are worked by men, but the large ones are

drawn by horses, sixty or seventy of which are sometimes attached to one

ysbreeker.} had been at work for the first time that season, but there

was any amount of skating ground left yet.

“Three cheers for home!” cried Van Mounen as they came in sight of the

great Western Dock (Westelijk Dok). “Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted one and

all. “Hurrah! Hurrah!”

This trick of cheering was an importation among our party. Lambert van

Mounen had brought it from England. As they always gave it in English,

it was considered quite an exploit and, when circumstances permitted,

always enthusiastically performed, to the sore dismay of their

quiet-loving countrymen.

Therefore, their arrival at Amsterdam created a great sensation,

especially among the small boys on the wharf.

The Y was crossed. They were on the Broek canal.

Lambert’s home was reached first.

“Good-bye, boys!” he cried as he left them. “We’ve had the greatest

frolic ever known in Holland.”

“So we have. Good-bye, Van Mounen!” answered the boys.

“Good-bye!”

Peter hailed him. “I say, Van Mounen, the classes begin tomorrow!”

“I know it. Our holiday is over. Good-bye, again.”

“Good-bye!”

Broek came in sight. Such meetings! Katrinka was upon the canal! Carl

was delighted. Hilda was there! Peter felt rested in an instant. Rychie

was there! Ludwig and Jacob nearly knocked each other over in their

eagerness to shake hands with her.

Dutch girls are modest and generally quiet, but they have very glad

eyes. For a few moments it was hard to decide whether Hilda, Rychie, or

Katrinka felt the most happy.

Annie Bouman was also on the canal, looking even prettier than the other

maidens in her graceful peasant’s costume. But she did not mingle with

Rychie’s party; neither did she look unusually happy.

The one she liked most to see was not among the newcomers. Indeed, he

was not upon the canal at all. She had not been near Broek before, since

the Eve of Saint Nicholas, for she was staying with her sick grandmother

in Amsterdam and had been granted a brief resting spell, as the

grandmother called it, because she had been such a faithful little nurse

night and day.

Annie had devoted her resting-spell to skating with all her might toward

Broek and back again, in the hope of meeting her mother on the canal,

or, it might be, Gretel Brinker. Not one of them had she seen, and she

must hurry back without even catching a glimpse of her mother’s cottage,

for the poor helpless grandmother, she knew, was by this time moaning

for someone to turn her upon her cot.

Where can Gretel be? thought Annie as she flew over the ice; she can

almost always steal a few moments from her work at this time of day.

Poor Gretel! What a dreadful thing it must be to have a dull father! I

should be woefully afraid of him, I know--so strong, and yet so strange!

Annie had not heard of his illness. Dame Brinker and her affairs

received but little notice from the people of the place.

If Gretel had not been known as a goose girl, she might have had more

friends among the peasantry of the neighborhood. As it was, Annie Bouman

was the only one who did not feel ashamed to avow herself by word and

deed the companion of Gretel and Hans.

When the neighbors’ children laughed at her for keeping such poor

company, she would simply flush when Hans was ridiculed, or laugh in

a careless, disdainful way, but to hear little Gretel abused always

awakened her wrath.

“Goose girl, indeed!” she would say. “I can tell you that any of you are

fitter for the work than she. My father often said last summer that it

troubled him to see such a bright-eyed, patient little maiden tending

geese. Humph! She would not harm them, as you would, Janzoon Kolp, and

she would not tread upon them, as you might, Kate Wouters.”

This would be pretty sure to start a laugh at the clumsy, ill-natured

Kate’s expense, and Annie would walk loftily away from the group of

young gossips. Perhaps some memory of Gretel’s assailants crossed her

mind as she skated rapidly toward Amsterdam, for her eyes sparkled

ominously and she more than once gave her pretty head a defiant

toss. When that mood passed, such a bright, rosy, affectionate look

illuminated her face that more than one weary working man turned to gaze

after her and to wish that he had a glad, contented lass like that for a

daughter.

There were five joyous households in Broek that night.

The boys were back safe and sound, and they found all well at home. Even

the sick lady at neighbor Van Stoepel’s was out of danger.

But the next morning! Ah, how stupidly school bells will ding-dong,

ding-dong, when one is tired.

Ludwig was sure that he had never listened to anything so odious. Even

Peter felt pathetic on the occasion. Carl said it was a shameful thing

for a fellow to have to turn out when his bones were splitting. And

Jacob soberly bade Ben “Goot-pye!” and walked off with his satchel as if

it weighed a hundred pounds.