CHAPTER XX.
THE GREAT MAN Completely overcome by this last remark, Hans collapsed like a jelly-fish out of water, and reflected in his worthless old heart that Frank Muller was indeed "a devil of a man." By this time they had reached the door of the little house, and were dismounting, and in another minute Hans found himself in the presence of one of the leaders of the rebellion.
He was a short, ugly person of about fifty-five, with a big nose, small eyes, straight hair, and a stoop.

The forehead, however, was good, and the whole face betrayed a keenness and ability far beyond the average.
The great man was seated at a plain deal table, writing something with evident difficulty upon a dirty sheet of paper, and smoking a very large pipe.
"Sit, _Heeren_, sit," he said, when they entered, waving the stem of his pipe towards a deal bench.

Accordingly they sat down without even removing their hats, and, pulling out their pipes, proceeded to light them.
"How, in the name of God, do you spell 'Excellency' ?" asked the General presently.

"I have spelt it in four different ways, and each one looks worse than the last." Frank Muller gave the required information.

Hans in his heart thought he spelt it wrong, but he did not dare to say so.