In that bright spring day, a little boy whose name is said to have been Peter and whose father was a lucer Chad for his dinner some cakea, His mother had baked them because she knew how much Peter liked them Peter was a very unselfish boy and whenever he had anything he liked, his first thought
always was to share it with someone else. So, as soon as he had finished his meal, he
umped up from the table and begged his mother to let him go see a poor blind man who
hved not far away and to let him carry those cakes which had not been eaten
His mother was pleased with Peter's thoughtfulness, and at once brought a basket filled with cakes for him to carry to the invalid, while Peter's father was making him promise not to stay out too late. Soon the boy was on his way, happy in the thought of the pleasure his present would give the blind man.*
of the The old man was delighted to see the cakes, and at once broke and ate one. Heb to tell Peter one of the stories for which he was famous, and which he knewnd fi to hear. But Peter suddenly remembered his promise not to stay out late, became so uneasy that he told the old man he must not wait to hear the end Hastily bidding him farewell, he started towards home.
His path lay beside the dyke, and along its grassy banks grew beautiful wild flowers we of many varied the divers were so attractive that Peter decided to pick a bunch them to carry home to his mother, who was so much of an invalid herself that she re left the house. So, he picked a few here and a few there-blue and yellow and pink, he had a handful of those varieties of which he knew his mother was most fond of, and N walked on. To keep himself from feeling lonesome, he hummed a gay little song.
Suddenly, he stopped, and neither sang nor smiled, as he looked at a slender thread of water trickling through the grass. Where did it come from? Surely not from the canal, and there was nowhere else for it to come from, unless it came from the dyke itself.
The thought was enough
to make even a child turn pale and tremble. Only the dyke stood between the boundless. sea and the safety of little Holland. He looked again, and to his imagination, the stream seemed greater already. What could he do? Night was coming on, the road was a solitary one. There was only the barest chance of anyone passing that way whom hen might hail, or of whom he could ask advice, a
Then came a quick recollection of his promise to his father, and he started homeward again but a force, as mighty as a giant's grasp, made him turn back again to watch that trickling stream of water.
He was near one of the great oaken sluices, and bounding up beside it, he carefully examined the dyke. There, as small as his finger, was a hole, and through that little ho was flowing the stream of water at his feet.
Like lightning, the flash of intuition came to Peter. If that hole was not plugged instantly, the force of the flow through it would rapidly increase from the pounding of that mighty sea behind it. In a night, the flood would break through the dyke and perhaps destroy all the homes in Holland.What could he do? No stone would fit the hole, ne amount of earth gecko the crevice could resist the pressure of the water. Peter was desperate Forgaten toe were his bunch of flowers which fell unheeded from his hand. He strained his eyes in search for travellers on that lonely road, vainly he shouted out for help until his theost was hoarse. What could he do? An idea struck him. vwin
Climbing again up the steep bank, from stone to stone, he thrust his finger in the hole and, it fitted! It stopped the trickling water for the moment, but, oh, what would happen when he took it out?
Now, it was as clear as daylight, what to do. He would not take it out until someone should come to relieve him. Forgetful of what this idea might bring to him, if carried out. he chuckled with a boyish delight in this real adventure.
"Ha, ha!" he said to himself. "The water can't come down now. Hanriem shall not be drowned while I am here to keep the flood back."
For a while, excitement kept him warm and fearless. Then the chill darkness of the
night surrounded him. All sorts of strange noises fell upon his unaccustomed cars. He seemed to see giants and demons Jurking near, ready to pounce upon him and kill him. Although he was a sturdy boy, tears came at last. He could no longer keep back thoughts of his comfortable bed at home, of the parents who might be even then worrying about his safety. However, as he had stayed in night with the old man once before, his parents had probably gone to sleep without worrying too much. And Peter was out in the dark night alone, in such misery and pain. The pain grew greater, the misery harder to bear every moment now, and still Peter kept his finger in that dangerous hole.
at He tried to whistle, hoping to attract the attention of a passing traveller, but his teeth ole chattered so much that he gave it up. Suddenly he remembered what he had been taught at his mother's knee, and prayed to the great God who could control the surging sea and protect a boy who was doing his best. When his prayer was said, he somehow felt braver, stronger and wiser than before, and in his heart be said: "I will not take it out till someone comes. I will stay till morning."Inger and longer grew the hour head, his thoughts were confu He is not of b playmates, of events long ago forgotten, danced before his eyes. He was not sure if he could draw his finger out of the hole even if he wished to do so; it felt so strangely numb. Why did it feel like knives were cutting, and pins pricking him from head to foot? What would happen if no one ever found him-no one ever came to help?
At last, the rose and silver of the dawn flushed the sky. Day had come and along that lonesome road came the first traveller in all the hours of Peter's vigil.
A priest whose night had been spent by the bedside of a sick person was hurrying homeward on the path beside the dyke. He heard a groan, a feeble sound of someone in a lot of pain. Turning, he glanced, first here and there, and looked up. At last, he saw the e writhing in extreme pain.
In a single bound, the priest was beside him, exclaiming, "In the name of wonder, what are you doing here?"
"I am keeping the water from running out," said Peter. "Oh, can't you ask them to com quick?"
And they did. The town of Haarlem, even Holland itself, had been saved through the of a little boy who did his duty. From that day to this, there has not been a single chil Holland who has not heard the stirring story of Peter, whose name will never be forgotten.