Read Ebook: Stem to Stern; or building the boat by Optic Oliver Merrill Frank T Illustrator

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Ebook has 1404 lines and 67836 words, and 29 pages

XL. LOOKING FOR WORK 269

The door slowly opened " 70

The ice seemed fairly alive " 136

There was a movement upon the bed " 242

"Good-night," they cried " 280

Skating slowly the boys and girls moved forward " 314

HANS BRINKER

Or, The Silver Skates

HANS AND GRETEL

On a bright December morning long ago, two thinly clad children were kneeling upon the bank of a frozen canal in Holland.

The sun had not yet appeared, but the gray sky was parted near the horizon, and its edges shone crimson with the coming day. Most of the good Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap; even Mynheer von Stoppelnoze, that worthy old Dutchman, was still slumbering "in beautiful repose."

Now and then some peasant woman, poising a well filled basket upon her head, came skimming over the glassy surface of the canal; or a lusty boy, skating to his day's work in the town, cast a good-natured grimace toward the shivering pair as he flew along.

Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, the brother and sister, for such they were, seemed to be fastening something upon their feet--not skates, certainly, but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and smoothed at their lower edge, and pierced with holes, through which were threaded strings of rawhide.

These queer looking affairs had been made by the boy Hans. His mother was a poor peasant-woman, too poor to even think of such a thing as buying skates for her little ones. Rough as these were, they had afforded the children many a happy hour upon the ice; and now as with cold, red fingers our young Hollanders tugged at the strings--their solemn faces bending closely over their knees--no vision of impossible iron runners came to dull the satisfaction glowing within.

In a moment the boy arose, and with a pompous swing of the arms, and a careless "come on, Gretel," glided easily across the canal.

"Ah, Hans," called his sister plaintively, "this foot is not well yet. The strings hurt me on last Market day; and now I cannot bear them tied in the same place."

"Tie them higher up, then," answered Hans, as without looking at her he performed a wonderful cat's-cradle step on the ice.

"How can I? The string is too short."

Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the English of which was that girls were troublesome creatures, he steered toward her.

"You are foolish to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you have a stout leather pair. Your klompen would be better than these."

Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Humming a tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to fasten Gretel's skate with all the force of his strong young arm.

"Oh! oh!" she cried, in real pain.

With an impatient jerk Hans unwound the string. He would have cast it upon the ground in true big-brother style, had he not just then spied a tear trickling down his sister's cheek.

"I'll fix it--never fear," he said, with sudden tenderness, "but we must be quick; the mother will need us soon."

Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at the ground, f the flatboat as far as she could on the sand, Walk Billcord rushed out from the bushes, where he had concealed himself, and prevented her from getting out of the boat.

She had put the oars under the thwarts, and arranged everything inside of the boat, which had delayed her a few moments. But as soon as she saw her tormentor running to the waterside, she attempted to leap out of the boat.

"No, you don't, my pretty maiden!" exclaimed Walk, as he seized her by the shoulders, and crowded her back to her seat in the stern.

Under the impetus of the force applied to her by the young man, Lily dropped into the seat, and was obliged to grasp the gunwale of the boat to avoid being thrown into the water. The fair face of the young lady was flushed with anger, as well it might have been, for she had not suspected that her tormentor would resort to violence.

She was not inclined to submit quietly to the will of Walk, for she immediately drew out one of the oars from under the thwarts, and poised it in the air, as though she intended to defeat the intentions of the reckless young gentleman even by meeting force with force.

Walk Billcord stood for a moment holding on at the prow of the boat, as though he was undecided as to his next step. Doubtless he felt that he had already passed the bounds of propriety, and appeared to be considering whether it was prudent to proceed any further. A glance at the glowing and indignant face of Lily increased his interest in the adventure, and he was not willing to leave her in the moment of her heightened beauty.

Lily was the daughter of a poor dependent of his father: at least, he so regarded her, and thought he had some right to subject her to his own whim. He wanted to row her about the bay, and talk with her; and this was the extent of his present wishes. It was only a "bit of a lark," a harmless pleasantry, on his part, as he afterward explained it, and he had not the slightest intention of injuring her.

The fair maiden did not regard herself as a proper subject for the young gentleman's pleasantry, and she was prepared to bring down the blade of the oar upon his head if the occasion should require. In the attitude of defence she waited for his next demonstration. The upraised oar rather tempted Walk to proceed, and he pushed the bow of the boat from the sand, springing into the foresheets as he did so.

As this was not a direct assault upon her, Lily did not bring down the oar upon his head, as she would under greater provocation, but she dropped it into the water at the stern of the boat. The water was shoal; and, setting the blade upon the sand at the bottom, she dexterously whirled the craft about, bringing the stern within a few feet of the dry sands on the shore.

Mr. Walk Billcord did not object to this movement, as it was necessary to head the boat away from the shore; but he deemed it prudent to secure the other oar before his fair companion could do so. He stooped down and got hold of the blade end of it. It required a little tact to remove it from its position under the thwarts; and, while he was engaged in doing it, Lily gave the oar another push, forcing the boat close up to the shore.

Without waiting for her tormentor to get the second oar over the forward thwart, she leaped lightly upon the dry sand, effecting her landing without wetting the soles of her shoes. She still held the oar in her hand, and stood on the shore, waiting for the next move of her unwelcome companion.

She was too proud to run away from such a contemptible being as she considered Mr. Walk Billcord. She looked as though she felt abundantly able to defend herself from any attack on the part of the unmanly persecutor. She evidently believed that he had no serious intention to harm her, but was simply making her the sport of his whim.

The moment she leaped ashore, Walk realized that she had got the better of him. Whatever he intended, he did not like to be outdone by a feeble girl. It was not pleasant for him, even in fun, to be outwitted by a weak maiden. He felt that he had not been smart, and he was annoyed at the situation. His vanity demanded that he should do something to get "even" with his intended victim.

The confident look and attitude of Lily on the shore disconcerted him, and invited further action on his part. He had not yet obtained possession of the oar, for it had to be shoved back before it could be passed over the forward thwart. But he had no present need of the implement, and he abandoned it to survey the position of Lily. He interpreted her looks and attitude as a defiance.

The boat, detached from the sand, was floating away from the shore. With a long leap he planted his feet on the land, and the effect of his movement was to drive the boat farther from the beach. A gentle breeze from the westward was driving it farther away, and Lily saw that it would soon be out of her reach.

She rushed to the water's edge, and, reaching out as far as she could, she succeeded in placing the end of the blade on the prow. She began to draw the truant craft toward the shore, when Walk put himself at her side. He took the oar from her hand, and pulled the craft up till its bottom grated on the sand.

Lily took a stick, and tried to get hold of the painter. As soon as she had it in her hand, Walk took it from her. He not only took the rope, but the hand which held it. He grasped her wrist with one hand, while he tried to drag the boat ashore with the other. He soon found that he had his hands full, both literally and figuratively.

Lily attempted to shake him off; but Walk tightened his hold upon her wrist, though he had to drop the painter of the boat, which, having no hold upon the land, began to float off into the open lake. The fair maiden turned and twisted in her efforts to escape, but the young ruffian held on like a vise.

In a moment or two she was exhausted with the violence of her exertions, and by this time she was thoroughly frightened. Very likely Walk had no worse intentions than at first, and was simply engaged in the business of getting "even" with the weak maiden who had outwitted him.

"What do you mean, you wretch? Let go of me!" gasped Lily, her chest heaving with terror and emotion.

"Don't make a fuss, my pretty one; I will not harm you," replied Walk.

"Let go of me, Mr. Billcord! I thought you claimed to be a gentleman! Let go, or I will scream," panted Lily.

"I only want to take a little row with you, and I shall, you may depend upon that," added Walk, picking up the oar which had fallen on the beach. "Don't make a fuss, and I won't hurt you."

But Lily again renewed the struggle with all her might. Just at that moment, Paul Bristol and his mother came out of the cottage. The boy was a stout youth of fifteen, and, the moment he saw what was going on, he broke into a run.

THE SON OF TOIL FIGHTS HIS OWN BATTLE.

Paul Bristol seemed to have made only a couple of bounds before he had covered the distance between the cottage and the shore. He saw his sister struggling to release herself from the grasp of Walk Billcord. All the indignation Nature had portioned out to him was roused, and he did not stop to ask any questions. He did not even utter a word of warning or reproach.

His two fists were clinched in hard knots before he reached the scene of the encounter, and, without waiting to consider the situation, he planted a blow with his right fist between the two eyes of his sister's persecutor, and then did the same with the left. The effect was instant and decisive. Walk went over backwards upon the sand, and his hold upon the fair maiden was released.

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