“Nein!” thundered Ten Eyck, puffing away with great vigor at the long pipe. As he spoke, the doorway was darkened, and four of the detested Windsor men sprung into the room. They had mounted the roof, torn off the bark roofing, and dropped into the garret.
“Surrender!” cried the foremost, as he drew near. “No use of fighting. Who commands here?”
“Me!” burst simultaneously from three pair of lips.
“All of you, eh? A corporate body, this. Come, boys, let’s bind these fellows fast and leave them.”
With this benevolent intention he approached Hans Drinker. When he came near enough, it suddenly occurred to the Dutchman that it would be no more than his duty to fight a little. Accordingly, he unexpectedly let go his right fist, taking the Yankee under the ear. This prowess excited the others to feats of valor. Paul seized a stool upon which he had been seated, and hurled it at the head of his adversary. Ten Eyck grabbed the poker from the wide fireplace, and attacked his adversary with great zeal.
But fire soon burns out when the fuel is scant. Hans, conceiving that he had done his duty to the State of Holland, submitted to be bound, after knocking down his man. This left four men to two. Paul was overpowered in a moment; but Ten Eyck retreated to a corner, from which he menaced all who dared approach with the poker. This at first excited laughter on the part of the men, but soon turned to anger at his pertinacity. He stood near the fire and thrust the poker into the hot coals when it was likely to become cool.
“This Dutchman is too hot,” said one of the men. “Let us cool him.”
A large tub of dirty water stood in one corner of the room. Two of the men brought this and placed it in front of the obdurate Hollander.
“Will you give up?” cried the leader.
“Nein!” replied Ten Eyck. “Never so long as I pe shoost as I am.”