“Not before I speak, and then by the legs—do you hear?”
“Yes, dad. Hush now!”
—The shuffling of approaching footsteps in the grass of the orchard ... suddenly a figure disengages itself from the darkness.—
“Now, Hannes, now!”
Hannes creeps forward along the ground, seizes the figure, according to instructions, firmly by the ankles—a good pull—and the thief falls forward at full length. Hannes seizes his wrists, and lets himself fall flat on the top of his prey.
The veldwachter, for greater security, incontinently throws himself upon his two predecessors; and the burgomaster crowns the human pyramid, and the successful thief-hunt, by sitting down, with all his burgomasterly weight and a heavy bump, upon the three others, triumphantly shouting the while, “I’ve got him,”—which is answered by, “Oh my ribs, your worship!” from the uppermost stratum, “What in thunder!” from the midmost, and a smothered groan from the lowest.
“Hannes, have you got a hold of his hands—tight now?”
“Yes, your worship, but I can’t do anything myself like this.”
“Well, I’ll get up, but keep a good hold of him—do you hear?”
“All right, sir.”