“Vait! vait! Dot hole vasn’t done mit me yet avile. I can done dot britty kervick.”
Again he tried, with a like result.
“I am afraid you’ll never make a river driver, Hans,” said Merry, laughing.
“Vot?” squawked the excited lad. “Who toldt you dot? I pet you your life I vill! Vait! vait!”
Then he made another attempt. This time he was desperate, and he managed to balance himself on the pole with a great effort. He uttered a shout of triumph.
“Didn’d you toldt me so!” he cried. “Oh, I vos——”
Just then somebody struck him on the head with a bag stuffed with hay, and over he went in a twinkling, hanging head downward, while all the men shouted:
“Grapaud!”
“Hey?” squealed Hans. “Somepody took me down! Somebody took dot hole avay kerveek!”