"Give him wine," growled a stout fellow who was driving a loaded sled.
"Yes! yes, give him wine!" echoed everybody.
Ludwig and Lambert shouted in concert, "Wine! Wine! Who has wine?"
A sleepy-headed Dutchman began to fumble mysteriously under the heaviest of blue jackets, saying as he did so, "Not so much noise, young masters, not so much noise! The boy was a fool to faint like a girl."
"Wine, quick!" cried Peter, who, with Ben's help, was rubbing Jacob from head to foot.
Ludwig stretched forth his hand imploringly toward the Dutchman, who, with an air of great importance, was still fumbling beneath the jacket.
"DO hurry! He will die! Has anyone else any wine?"
"He IS dead!" said an awful voice from among the bystanders.