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.