"Just like his impertinence," hissed Carl Schummel, darting scornfully past his companions, who seemed inclined to linger with their captain.
"I am glad to see you, Hans," responded Peter, cheerily, "but you look troubled. Can I serve you?"
"I have a trouble, mynheer," answered Hans, casting down his eyes. Then lifting them again with almost a happy expression, he added, "but it is Hans who can help Mynheer van Holp this time."
"How?" asked Peter, making, in his blunt Dutch way, no attempt to conceal his surprise.
"By giving you this, mynheer"—and Hans held forth the missing purse.
"Hurrah!" shouted the boys taking their cold hands from their pockets to wave them joyfully in the air. But Peter said "Thank you, Hans Brinker," in a tone that made Hans feel as if the king had knelt to him.
The shout of the delighted boys reached the muffled ears of the fine young gentleman who, under a full pressure of pent-up wrath, was skating toward Amsterdam. A Yankee boy would have wheeled about at once and hastened to satisfy his curiosity. But Carl only halted, and with his back toward his party wondered what on earth had happened. There he stood, immovable, until, feeling sure that nothing but the prospect of something to eat could have made them hurrah so heartily, he turned and skated slowly toward his excited comrades.
Meantime Peter had drawn Hans aside from the rest.
"How did you know it was my purse?" he asked.
"You paid me three guilders yesterday, mynheer, for making the white-wood chain, telling me that I must buy skates."