162 Hans Brinker

superb, — nearly five hundred sweet-toned bells, and one of the
best carilloneurs of Holland to play upon them. Hard work,
though : they say the fellow often has to go to bed from posi-
tive exhaustion, after his performances. You see, the bells are
attached to a kind of key-board, something like they have on
piano-fortes: there are also a set of pedals for the feet. When
a brisk tune is going on, the player looks like a kicking frog
fastened to his seat with a skewer.”

“For shame !”’ said Ben, indignantly.

Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of Haarlem
anecdotes; and now, having nothing to do but to skate, he and
his three companions were hastening to “catch up” with
Lambert and Ben.

“That English lad is fleet enough,” said Peter. “If he
were a born Hollander, he could do no better. Generally
these John Bulls make but a sorry figure on skates. — Halloo!
Here you are, Van Mounen: why, we hardly hoped for the
honor of meeting you again. Whom were you flying from in
such haste? ”’

“Snails,” retorted Lambert. ‘“ What kept you?”

“We have been talking; and, besides, we halted once to

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give Poot a chance to rest.”

“He begins to look rather worn out,” said Lambert, in a
low voice.

Just then a beautiful ice-boat, with reefed sail and flying
streamers, swept leisurely by. Its deck was filled with chil-
dren muffled up to their chins. Looking at them from the ice,
you could see only smiling little faces embedded in bright-
colored woollen wrappings. They were singing a chorus in
honor of St. Nicholas. The music, starting in the discord of