"Hi! Look out there!" gasped Britton, in some alarm. "Don't let that
thing slip!"

"Doesn't this castle belong to me?" I demanded, considerably impressed
by the ease with which he swung the sledge. A very dangerous person,
I began to perceive.

"It does, mein herr," shouted all of them gladly, and touched their
forelocks.

"Everything is yours," added old Conrad, with a comprehensive sweep
of his hand that might have put the whole universe in my name.

"Smash that padlock, Max," I said after a second's hesitation.

"I'll bet he can't do it," said Britton, ingeniously.

Very reluctantly Max bared his great arms, spit upon his hands, and,
with a pitiful look at his parents, prepared to deal the first blow
upon the ancient padlock. The old couple turned their heads away, and
put their fingers to their ears, cringing like things about to be
whipped.

"Now, one--two--three!" cried I, affecting an enthusiasm I didn't feel.

The sledge fell upon the padlock and rebounded with almost equal force.
The sound of the crash must have disturbed every bird and bat in the
towers of the grim old pile. But the padlock merely shed a few scabs
of rust and rattled back into its customary repose.