182 Hans Brinker

off to bed, led on by a greasy pioneer-boy, who carried skates
and a candle-stick, instead of an axe.

One of the ill-favored men by the fire had shuffled toward
the dresser, and was ordering a mug of beer, just as Ludwig,
who brought up the rear, was stepping from the apartment.

“J don’t like that fellow’s eye,” he whispered to Carl.
«He looks like a pirate, or something of that kind.”

“‘ Looks like a granny!” answered Carl, in sleepy disdain.

Ludwig laughed uneasily.

“‘Granny, or no granny,” he whispered, “I tell you, he
looks just like one of those men in the voetspoelen.”

“ Pooh!’ sneered Carl. “I knew it. That picture was
too much for you. Look sharp, now, and see if yon fellow
with the candle doesn’t look like the other villain.”

“No! indeed. His face is as honest as a Gouda cheese.
But I say, Carl, that really was a horrid picture.”

“ Humph! What did you stare at it so long for?”

“JT couldn’t help it.”

By this time, the boys had reached the “ beautiful room
with three beds in it.” A dumpy little maiden, with long ear-
rings, met them at the doorway, dropped them a courtesy, and
passed out. She carried a long-handled thing that resembled a
frying-pan with a cover.

“<] am glad to see that,” said Van Mounen to Ben.

“ What ?”

“Why, the warming-pan. It’s full of hot ashes. She’s
been heating our beds.”

“ Oh, a warming-pan, eh! Much obliged to her, I’m
sure,” said Ben, too sleepy to make any further comment.

Meantime, Ludwig still talked of the picture that had made
such a strong impression upon him. He had seen it in a shop-