He held on till he was forced to drop. Then he rose to his feet and stared around.
“Vot vos id I hit me against?” he demanded, fiercely.
“That’s part of the initiation,” was the explanation. “You must look out for that and keep your balance.”
“Vos dot id? Vale, shust let dot try me again.”
Then he pluckily made another attempt, and again he was struck on the head and sent spinning wrong end up, while a second time the shout was heard:
“Grapaud.”
“I don’d knew vot dot means,” gasped the Dutch lad; “but I pet you your tollars id vos a lie!”
Then he fell upon his back.
He was pretty well winded when he arose, but he was urged to get on the pole once more, and this was kept up till he was utterly exhausted and gave up in despair.
“Vale,” he gurgled, “I don’d vant to peen a rifer trifer. Oxcuse me, shentlemen!”