tate of affairs at a glance and
sat heavily beside Peter on the robber's back.

Oh, didn't the fellow groan then!

"No use in holding him down any longer, boys," said Peter, rising, but
bending as he did so to draw a pistol from the man's belt. "You see I've
been keeping a guard over this pretty little weapon for the last ten
minutes. It's cocked, and the least wriggle might have set it off. No
danger now. I must dress myself. You and I, Lambert, will go for the
police. I'd no idea it was so cold."

"Where is Carl?" asked one of the boys.

They looked at one another. Carl certainly was not among them.

"Oh!" cried Ludwig, frightened at last. "Where is he? Perhaps he's had a
fight with the robber and got killed."

"Not a bit of it," said Peter quietly as he buttoned his stout jacket.
"Look under the beds."

They did so. Carl was not there.

Just then they heard a commotion on the stairway. Ben hastened to
open the door. The landlord almost tumbled in; he was armed with a big
blunderbuss. Two or three lodgers followed; then the daughter, with an
upraised frying pan in one hand and a candle in the other; and behind
her, looking pale and frightened, the gallant Carl!

"There's your man, mine host," said Peter, nodding toward the prisoner.

Mine host raised his blunderbuss, the girl screamed, and Jacob, more
nimble than usual, rolled quickly from the robber's back.

"Don't fire," cried Peter, "he is tied, hand and foot. Let's roll him
over and see what he looks like."

Carl stepped briskly forward, with a bluster, "Yes. We'll turn him over
in a way he won't like. Lucky we've caught him!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Ludwig. "Where were you, Master Carl?"

"Where was I?" retorted Carl angrily. "Why, I went to give the alarm, to
be sure!"

All the boys exchanged glances, but they were too happy and elated to
say anything ill-natured. Carl certainly was bold enough now. He took
the lead while three others aided him in turning the helpless man.

While the robber lay faceup, scowling and muttering, Ludwig took the
candlestick from the girl's hand.

"I must have a good look at the beauty," he said, drawing closer, but
the words were no sooner spoken than he turned pale and started so
violently that he almost dropped the candle.

"The voetspoelen!" he cried! "Why, boys, it's the man who sat by the
fire!"

"Of course it is," answered Peter. "We counted out money before him like
simpletons. But what have we to do with v