or, The Silver Skates 95

“Come, boys!” cried the captain: “ten o’clock, time we
were off!”

They hastened to the canal.

“ Skates on! Are you ready? One, two —halloo! where’s
Poot?”

Surely enough, where:was Poot?

A square opening had just been cut in the ice not ten yards
off. Peter observed it, and without a word skated rapidly
toward it.

All the others followed, of course.

Peter looked in. They all looked in; then stared anxiously
at each other.

“ Poot |? screamed Peter, peering into the hole again. All
was still. The black water gave no sign: it was already
glazing on top.

Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben.

“© Didn't he have a fit once?”

“ My goodness, yes!” answered Ben, in a great fright.

“Then, depend upon it, he’s been taken with one in. the
museum ! ”

The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was off in a
twinkling. Peter had the presence of mind to scoop up a
capful of water from the hole ; and off they scampered to the
rescue.

Alas! they did, indeed, find poor Jacob ina fit — but it was
a fit of sleepiness. There he lay in a recess of the gallery,
snoring like a trooper. The chorus of laughter that followed
this discovery brought an angry official to the spot.

“What now! None of this racket! Here, you beer-
barrel, wake up!” and Master Jacob received a very un-
ceremonious shaking.