"See here, Benjamin Dobbs," retorted Lambert, growing unaccountably
indignant at Ben's quiet smile. "See here, you've a way of calling every
other thing you see on THIS side of the German ocean 'ridiculous.' It
may suit YOU, this word, but it doesn't suit ME. When you want anything
ridiculous, just remember your English custom of making the Lord Mayor
of London, at his installation, count the nails in a horseshoe to prove
HIS LEARNING."

"Who told you we had any such custom as that?" cried Ben, looking grave
in an instant.

"Why, I KNOW it, no use of anyone telling me. It's in all the books--and
it's true. It strikes me," continued Lambert, laughing in spite of
himself, "that you have been kept in happy ignorance of a good many
ridiculous things on YOUR side of the map."

"Humph!" exclaimed Ben, trying not to smile. "I'll inquire into that
Lord Mayor business when I get home. There must be some mistake.
B-r-r-roooo! How fast we're going. This is glorious!"

It was a grand sail, or ride, I scarcely know which to call it; perhaps
FLY would be the best word, for the boys felt very much as Sinbad
did when, tied to the roc's leg, he darted through the clouds; or as
Bellerophon felt when he shot through the air on the back of his winged
horse Pegasus.

Sailing, riding, or flying, whichever it was, everything was rushing
past, backward, and before they had time to draw a deep breath, Leyden
itself, with its high, peaked roofs, flew halfway to meet them.

When the city came in sight, it was high time to waken the sleeper. That
feat accomplished, Peter's prophecy came to pass. Master Jacob was quite
restored and in excellent spirits.

The schipper made a feeble remonstrance when Peter, with hearty thanks,
endeavored to slip some silver pieces into his tough brown palm.

"Ye see, young master," said he, drawing away his hand, "the regular
line o' trade's ONE thing, and a favor's another."

"I know it," said Peter, "but those boys and girls of yours will want
sweets when you get home. Buy them some in the name of Saint Nicholas."

The man grinned. "Aye, true enough, I've young 'uns in plenty, a clean
boatload of them. You are a sharp young master at guessing."

This time the knotty hand hitched forward again, quite carelessly, it
seemed, but its palm was upward. Peter hastily dropped in the money and
moved away.

The sail came tumbling down. Scrape, scrape went the brake, scattering
an ice shower round the boat.

"