k! She is motioning to you
to join the racers. There, the skate is almost on: quick, mynheer,
fasten it. I could not possibly win. The race lies between Master
Schummel and yourself."

"You are a noble fellow, Hans!" cried Peter, yielding at last. He
sprang to his post just as the handkerchief fell to the ground. The
bugle sends forth its blast, loud, clear, and ringing.

Off go the boys!

"Mein Gott!" cries a tough old fellow from Delft. "They beat
everything, these Amsterdam youngsters. See them!"

See them, indeed! They are winged Mercuries, every one of them. What
mad errand are they on? Ah, I know; they are hunting Peter Van Holp.
He is some fleet-footed runaway from Olympus. Mercury and his troop of
winged cousins are in full chase. They will catch him! Now Carl is the
runaway. The pursuit grows furious. Ben is foremost!

The chase turns in a cloud of mist. It is coming this way. Who is
hunted now? Mercury himself. It is Peter, Peter Van Holp! Fly, Peter!
Hans is watching you. He is sending all his fleetness, all his
strength, into your feet. Your mother and sister are pale with
eagerness. Hilda is trembling, and dare not look up, Fly, Peter! The
crowd has not gone deranged; it is only cheering. The pursuers are
close upon you. Touch the white column! It beckons; it is reeling
before you--it--

"Huzza! Huzza! Peter has won the silver skates!"

"PETER VAN HOLP!" shouted the crier. But who heard him? "Peter Van
Holp!" shouted a hundred voices; for he was the favorite boy of the
place. "Huzza! Huzza!"

Now the music was resolved to be heard. It struck up a lively air,
then a tremendous march. The spectators, thinking something new was
about to happen, deigned to listen and to look.

The racers formed in single file. Peter, being tallest, stood first.
Gretel, the smallest of all, took her place at the end. Hans, who had
borrowed a strap from the cake-boy, was near the head.

Three gayly twined arches were placed at intervals upon the river,
facing the Van Gleck pavilion.

Skating slowly, and in perfect time to the music, the boys and girls
moved forward, led on by Peter, It was beautiful to see the bright
procession glide along like a living creature. It curved and doubled,
and drew its graceful length in and out among the arches; whichever
way Peter, the head, went, the body was sure to follow. Sometimes it
steered direct for the centre arch; then, as if seized with a new
impulse, turned away and curle