or, The Silver Skates 113

XITI
A CATASTROPHE

T was nearly one o’clock when Captain van Holt and his
command entered the grand old city of Haarlem. They

had skated nearly seventeen miles since morning, and were still
as fresh as young eagles. From the youngest (Ludwig van
Holp, who was just fourteen) to the eldest (no less a personage
than the captain himself, a veteran of seventeen), there was but
one opinion, —that this was the greatest frolic of their lives.
To be sure, Jacob Poot had become rather short of breath
during the last mile or two, and perhaps he felt ready for
another nap; but there was enough jollity in him yet for a
dozen. Even Carl Schummel, who had become very intimate
with Ludwig during the excursion, forgot to be ill-natured.
As for Peter, he was the happiest of the happy; his joyous
song and merry whistle, as he skated along, had cheered many
a passer-by that day.

“* Come, boys, it’s nearly ¢/ffiz1-hour,” he said, as they neared
a coffee-house on the main street. ‘ We must have something
more solid than the pretty maiden’s gingerbread;” and the
captain plunged his hands into his pockets, as if to say, ‘ There’s
money enough here to feed an army !”

§¢ Halloo!”’ cried Lambert. ‘ What ails the man?”

2 Lunch.
8