or, The Silver Skates 167

Peter and Carl were lifting him. The face was white
enough now. It seemed like a dead face; even the good-
natured look was gone.

A crowd collected. Peter unbuttoned the poor boy’s °
jacket, loosened his red tippet, and blew between the parted
lips.

!”? he cried. Give him air ! ”
“ Lay him down,” called out a woman from the crowd.
“ Stand him upon his feet,” shouted another.

“Stand off, good people

“Give him wine,” growled a stout fellow who was driving
a loaded sled.
“Yes, yes, give him wine

17?

echoed everybody.

Ludwig and Lambert shouted in concert, —

“Wine, wine! Who has wine?”

A sleepy-eyed Dutchman began to fumble mysteriously
under the heaviest of blue jackets, saying, as he did so, —

‘¢ Not so much noise, young masters; not so much noise !
‘The boy was a fool to faint off like a girl.”

“ Wine, quick!” cried Peter, who, with Ben’s help, was
rubbing Jacob from head to foot.

Ludwig stretched forth his hand imploringly toward the
Dutchman, who, with an air of great importance, was still
fumbling beneath the jacket.

“ Dohurry! He will die! Has any one else any wine?”

“He zs dead!” said an awful voice from among the
bystanders.

This startled the Dutchman.

“Have a care!” he said, reluctantly drawing forth a small
blue flask. “ This is schnapps. A little is enough.”

A little was enough. The paleness gave way to a faint
flush. Jacob opened his eyes, and, half bewildered, half