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"The lawns are admirable, and the Fellows eat up the college revenues, hunting and shooting up and down England. Only one of them works my kind host, Max Mueller."
"Hans Mueller, are you prepared to meet your doom"? was the question put, in a deep bass voice. "Doom? Vot's dot?" asked the German boy, slightly frightened. "Are you prepared to die?" "Die? Not by a jugful I ain't. You let me go!" "Are you prepared to become a full-fledged member of the Order of Black Skulls." "Not much, I ton't belong to noddings," gasped Hans.
But the world was not to learn of it for some weeks. On the 27th of January, the Kaiser's birthday, the Chancellor, Field Marshal von Hindenburg, First Quartermaster General Ludendorf, Admirals von Capelle, von Holtzendorff and von Mueller and Secretary of State Zimmermann were invited to Great Headquarters to attend the Kaiser's birthday dinner.
Tom came after them, skulking along that nobody driving by might catch sight of him. Not quite an hour later Hans Mueller was heard coming back. The German boy was humming to himself and at the same time throwing up the new ball he had purchased for Dick. "Burra! Burra!" thundered out Tom, as he leaped from behind a big tree. "Dutcha boy heap big scalp-me take um! Burra!"
He appeared again a moment later, however, followed by the commander of the Sydney. Introductions followed. "Captain von Mueller," said Lord Hastings at length, "it will be necessary for me to turn you over to Captain Glossop. You will go with him aboard the Sydney. Were I returning direct to England, it would give me pleasure to have you accompany me.
Wilde, who is still young, talked with genuine feeling and enthusiasm of his art, and is certainly a man of genius. We next went to the studio of an elderly Swiss artist, named Mueller, I believe, where we looked at a great many water-color and crayon drawings of scenes in Italy, Greece, and Switzerland.
Last fourth of July, Charles Mueller, a pseudo-American, hung from his home in the busy Kurfurstendamm a huge American flag with a deep border of black that Berlin might see a "real American's" symbol of humiliation. On the same day, dear to the hearts of Americans, a four-page flyer was spread broadcast through the German capital with a black border on the front page enclosing a black cross.
Talk so I can understand you." "You don't know that the Santees are on the 'big trail'? of the massacre along the Minnesota River?" "I know nothing. Once more, who are you?" "Who am I? What does it matter? My name is Hans Mueller. I'm a trapper." Of a sudden he drew back, inspecting his impassive questioner doubtfully, almost unbelievingly. "But come. I'll tell you along the way.
The native poplar is a favourite and harmless food for camels, and as it is of the same family as the Gyrostemon, my friend Baron von Mueller argues that I must be mistaken in the poison plant which affected the camels.
They had something like half a million in a corral, and about two thousand got away from them." This preposterous announcement was taken by Hans Mueller in all seriousness, and he asked Tom all sorts of ridiculous questions about the savage red men, whom he supposed as wild and wily as those of generations ago. "No, I ton't vonts to meet any of dem," he said at last. "Da vos von pad lot alretty!"
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