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Updated: June 28, 2025
After tormenting him awhile, with one touch sending a chill from head to foot, with the next scorching every vein with fever, she made the canal rock and tremble beneath him, the white sails bow and spin as they passed, then cast him heavily upon the ice. "Halloo!" cried Van Mounen. "There goes Poot!" Ben sprang hastily forward. "Jacob! Jacob, are you hurt?" Peter and Carl were lifting him.
Ludwig does not waken, but he moans in his sleep. Does not Carl hear it Carl the brave, the fearless? No. Carl is dreaming of the race. And Jacob? Van Mounen? Ben? Not they. They, too, are dreaming of the race, and Katrinka is singing through their dreams laughing, flitting past them; now and then a wave from the great organ surges through their midst. Still the thing moves, slowly, slowly.
Why, my Aunt Poot, rich as she is, scrubs half the time, and her house looks as if it were varnished all over. I wrote to mother yesterday that I could see my double always with me, feet to feet, in the polished floor of the dining room." "Your DOUBLE! That word puzzles me; what do you mean?" "Oh, my reflection, my apparition. Ben Dobbs number two." "Ah, I see," exclaimed Van Mounen.
Therefore he pressed eagerly forward, as Van Mounen led the way through the fish market, anxious to see if storks in Holland were anything like the melancholy specimens he had seen in the Zoological Gardens of London. It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad bird, say what you will.
"I shall take you to hear better music than that," he said. "We are just in time to hear the organ of Saint Bavon. The church is open today." "What, the great Haarlem organ?" asked Ben. "That will be a treat indeed. "The same," answered Lambert van Mounen. Peter was right. The church was open, though not for religious services. Someone was playing upon the organ.
"How beautiful that was!" exclaimed Van Mounen. "Just like a dream!" Jacob drew close to Ben, giving his usual approving nod, as he spoke. "Dat ish goot. Dat ish te pest vay. I shay petter to take to Leyden mit a poat!" "Take a boat!" exclaimed Ben in dismay. "Why, man, our plan was to SKATE, not to be carried like little children." "Tuyfels!" retorted Jacob.
Van Mounen is flagging, but you are strong as ever. Hans and Peter, Peter and Hans; which is foremost? We love them both. We scarcely care which is the fleeter. Hilda, Annie, and Gretel, seated upon the long crimson bench, can remain quiet no longer. They spring to their feet so different and yet one in eagerness. Hilda instantly reseats herself.
"Good-bye, boys!" he cried as he left them. "We've had the greatest frolic ever known in Holland." "So we have. Good-bye, Van Mounen!" answered the boys. "Good-bye!" Peter hailed him. "I say, Van Mounen, the classes begin tomorrow!" "I know it. Our holiday is over. Good-bye, again." "Good-bye!" Broek came in sight. Such meetings! Katrinka was upon the canal! Carl was delighted. Hilda was there!
They also stood spellbound before a painting of two little urchins, one of whom was taking soup and the other eating an egg. The principal merit in this work was that the young egg-eater had kindly slobbered his face with the yolk for their entertainment. An excellent representation of the "Feast of Saint Nicholas" next had the honor of attracting them. "Look, Van Mounen," said Ben to Lambert.
I have read somewhere that they were reverently cared for from that day, and when they died, they were stuffed and placed for safekeeping in the town hall. We must be sure to have a look at them." Van Mounen laughed. "On that principle, Ben, I suppose when you go to Rome you'll expect to see the identical goose who saved the capitol. But it will be easy enough to see the pigeons.
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