and with the
other foot he hands the worms around to the family. I used to sit down
and watch them by the hour in that other Amstel where ours gets its
name."

"By the great city of Amsterdam?" asked Elsje.

"That's it. In Amstel, the suburb of Amsterdam, where you can see such
beautiful ships from all parts of the world. If I get a stork for our
chimney may I hold your doll another day?"

"Yes, Nanking, and I'll give you a kiss."

Nanking told his mother next day that he was going to the woods, and
not to cry if he did not return at dark. The Widow Cloos kissed him,
and saw him go happily up the street.

"_Om licht en donker!_" she moaned. "Between the hawk and the buzzard!
Poor, simple son! The Indians may kill him, but here he will only get
his uncle's curse!"

Nanking walked out through the little settlement of log and brick, and
past the court-house, where the stocks and whipping-post were always
standing. He saw his uncle Van Swearingen's smart dwelling, with its
end to the street and notched gables, and many panes in its glazed
windows, and two front doors, and large iron figures in front, telling
the date his uncle built it. A little way off was the fine residence
of Peter Alrichs, with a balcony on the roof where the family sat of
evenings, smoking their pipes and seeing starlight come out on the
river and the flag drop at sunset from Fort Casimir; or hearing the
roll of drums as they changed the guard or fired a gun to overhaul a
vessel.

"If I get a stork and bring it back," thought Nanking, "won't I
astonish this town? It'll be proclaimed, I expect, in a public manner,
that Nanking Cloos is no longer the big idiot."

The woods closed round New Amstel not very far from the houses, and
only an Indian path led on through the strong timber or marshy copse.
Nanking was unarmed and not afraid. He walked until long after sun-up,
and waded the headwater swamps of Christine Kill, until he saw before
him the hills of Chisopecke rise blue and wooded, and there he knew
the Minquas kept their fort. But the Minquas had no storks. He turned
the first and second of these hills and then crossed the range and
descended to the rain-washed country on the other side, where, amid
the low sparse pines on the lonely barrens, he could walk more
readily, guided south-westward by the proceeding sun. The fierce
Susquehannocks dwelt beyond the next high range, and Nanking had heard
from other Indians that they only had some s