He did not know his way, but woe betide those who ventured to oppose him.
His arm and sword were good, and there were Spaniards enough at hand whom he could make feel the weight of both.

His impatience began to rise, and it seemed like a welcome diversion, when he heard steps approaching and a man's figure entered the house.

He had stationed himself by the wall with his sword between his folded arms, and now shouted a loud "halt" to the new-comer.
The latter instantly drew his sword, and when Georg imperiously demanded what he wanted, replied in a boyish voice, but a proud, resolute tone: "I ask you that question! I am in my father's house." "Indeed!" replied the German smiling, for he had now recognized the speaker's figure by the dim light.

"Put up your sword.

If you are young Matanesse Van Wibisma, you have nothing to fear from me." "I am.