114 Hans Brinker

Peter, pale and staring, was clapping his hands upon his
breast and sides: he looked like one suddenly becoming
deranged.

«“ He’s sick!” cried Ben.

“No, he ’s lost something,” said Carl.

Peter could only gasp, “The pocket-book, with all our
money in it—it’s gone!”

For an instant, all were
too much startled to speak.

Carl at last came out with
a gruff —

“ No sense in letting one
fellow have alJl the money.
I said so from the first.
Look in your other pocket.”
“JT did: it isn’t there.”

“ Open your under jack-
et.”

Peter obeyed mechani-
cally. He even took off
his hat, and looked into it,
then thrust his hand des-
perately into every pocket.

“It’s gone, boys,” he said

 

“erp’s GONE!” at last in a hopeless tone.

“No tiffin for us, nor dinner

either. What is to be done? We can’t get on without

money. If we were in Amsterdam, I could get as much as

we want; but there is not a man in Haarlem from whom I

can borrow a stiver. Don’t one of you know any one here
who would lend us a few guilders?”