364. Hans Brinker

blind and deaf to any remonstrance, slipped his strap into
Peter’s skate, and implored him to put it on.

“Come, Peter!” cried Lambert from the line: “we are
waiting for you.”

“For madame’s sake,” pleaded Hans, “be quick! She is
motioning to you to join the racers. There, the skate is
almost on: quick, mynheer, fasten it. I could not possibly
win. ‘The race lies between Master Schummel and yourself.”

 

 

‘© TAKE THIS STRAP — QUICK !””

“‘'You are a noble fellow, Hans!” cried Peter, yielding at
last. He sprang to his post just as the handkerchief fell to the
ground. The bugle sends forth its blast, loud, clear and ringing.

Off go the boys!

“ Mine Gott!” cries a tough old fellow from Delft.
“They beat everything, these Amsterdam youngsters.
See them! ”