A considerable time elapsed, during which even the strained senses of the triumvirate could perceive nothing which, in the remotest degree, resembled even a fraction of a thief. At last Hannes’ patience was exhausted, and with it his capacity for silence. “Dad,” he began in a whisper, “if he comes, am I to take him by the throat and choke him, or shall I punch his head till he falls down dead?”
“I don’t know,” replied the veldwachter, in an equally cautious whisper, at least as low as his love for gutturals and sibilants would allow, “I’ll just ask his worship.” Thus did Kobus, and repeated the gruesome question to the burgomaster, thereby sending a shudder through the latter’s limbs.
“Tell him,” said the heroic man to his heroic subordinate, who was squatting between his superior and his son, “that he must seize him by the legs, so as not to come within reach of his hands; the thief is sure to have daggers and pistols to defend himself with if he is attacked.” Thus spake the wise man; but the real reason for his caution was that he felt there might be disagreeable consequences for himself if Hannes received the thief in too heavy-handed a manner.
The veldwachter passed on the message in a whisper to his son:
“Hold him by the legs, Hannes!”
“All right, dad,” replied Hannes, though he did not understand why he was to treat the criminal so gently. But the burgomaster had said so,—in other words, the oracle had spoken, and so——
It was very quiet, in the dark, behind Jan’s pear-tree. The burgomaster dropped his venerated head, and slept. When Kobus heard the low sound of snoring beside him, he turned to his son, and said:
“Hannes, his worship is off; I think I’ll have a nap too; keep a good look-out, and give me a push if you see anything wrong.”
“All right, dad,” said Hannes, and he sat bolt upright, and opened his eyes still wider than before. But the duet at his side, the darkness all round him, and the weariness in his eyelids, made him close them now and then. He struggled bravely against sleep, but there was no one to help him. And he was only fifteen, and it was so late and so dark, and Hannes fell into a doze.
Now and then he was awakened for a moment or so by the uneasy thought that he was the one who had to watch. On one of these occasions, he thought he saw a dim figure pass right before him in this dark, and to hear steps—hurried footsteps. He rubbed his eyes, and—yes—there was some one carefully opening the gate and leaving the orchard.