Alonzo gave a signal for the music to cease.
“Why don’t you dance?” he demanded sternly of the German.
“Ich kann nicht. I have never learn,” said Johann, in a tone of apology.
“Then I will teach you,” and the lieutenant seized the unwilling Teuton, and forced him to jump and caper as well as his great bulk would permit.
Gradually the rest stopped, and fixed their eyes upon the Dutchman’s unwilling gambols. The lieutenant had threatened him with instant death if he did not do his best, and the distressed Teuton, fearing to be shot, exerted himself to please his captor.
“THE LIEUTENANT THREATENED THE DUTCHMAN WITH INSTANT DEATH IF HE DID NOT DO HIS BEST.”
If the reader will imagine a frisky elephant, he can form some idea of mynheer’s wonderful feats, as in panic-stricken resignation he hopped and jumped at the will of the lieutenant. But he was short of breath and yielded at last to fatigue, sinking in a heap upon the earth.
“I can no more,” he said, panting heavily. “I am ausgespielt!”
“He looks played out,” said the lieutenant. “Dick, bring him a drop of brandy.”