“No, mynheer,” replied the corporal, “I not tell you all, tousand tyfel, I not tell you all;” and here the corporal put his hand to his forehead and was silent, much to Vanslyperken’s amazement.  But the fact was, that Corporal Van Spitter was thinking what he possibly could say.  At last, a brilliant thought struck him—­he narrated to the lieutenant how he had seen the ghost of Smallbones, as he thought, when he was floating about, adrift on the Zuyder Zee—­described with great force his horror at the time of the appearance of the supernatural object, and tailed on to what he believed to be true, that which he knew to be false, to wit, that the apparition had cried out to him, that “he was not to be hurt by mortal man.”  “Gott in Himmel,” finished the corporal, “I never was so frightened in my life.  I see him now, as plain as I see you, mynheer.  Twenty tousand tyfels, but the voice was like de tunder—­and his eye like de lightning—­I fell back in one swoon.  Ah, mein Gott, mein Gott!”

So well did the corporal play his part, that Vanslyperken became quite terrified; the candle appeared to burn dim, and he dared not move to snuff it.  He could not but credit the corporal, for there was an earnestness of description, and a vividness of colouring, which could not have been invented; besides, was not the corporal his earnest and only friend?  “Corporal,” said Vanslyperken, “perhaps you’ll like a glass of scheedam; there’s some in the cupboard.”

This was very kind of Mr Vanslyperken, but he wanted one himself, much more than the corporal.  The corporal produced the bottle and the glass, poured it out, made his military salute, and tossed it off.

“Give me another glass, corporal,” said Vanslyperken, in a tremulous tone.  The lieutenant took one, two, three glasses, one after another, to recover himself.

The corporal had really frightened him.  He was convinced that Smallbones had a charmed life.  Did he not float to the Nab buoy and back again?—­did not a pistol ball pass through him without injury?  Vanslyperken shuddered; he took a fresh glass, and then handed the bottle to the corporal, who helped himself, saluted, and the liquor again disappeared in a moment.

Dutch courage is proverbial, although a libel upon one of the bravest of nations.  Vanslyperken now felt it, and again he commenced with the corporal.  “What were the words?” inquired he.

“Dat he was not to be hurt by mortal man, mynheer.  I can take mine piple oath of it,” replied the corporal.

“Damnation!” cried Vanslyperken; “but stop—­mortal man—­perhaps he may be hurt by woman.”

“Dat is quite anoder ting, mynheer.”

“He shan’t escape if I can help it,” retorted Vanslyperken.  “I must think about it.”  Vanslyperken poured out another glass of scheedam, and pushed the stone bottle to the corporal, who helped himself without ceremony.  Mr Vanslyperken was now about two-thirds drunk, for he was not used to such a quantity of spirits.