You see how much depends on those walls,--the good crops, the houses,
and even the safety of the people. Even the small children in that country
know that an accident to one of the walls is a terrible thing. These walls
are really great banks, as wide as roads, and they are called "dikes."
Once there was a little boy who lived in that country, whose name was
Hans. One day, he took his little brother out to play. They went a long
way out of the town, and came to where there were no houses, but ever so
many flowers and green fields. By-and-by, Hans climbed up on the dike, and
sat down; the little brother was playing about at the foot of the bank.
Suddenly the little brother called out, "Oh, what a funny little hole! It
bubbles!"
"Hole? Where?" said Hans.
"Here in the bank," said the little brother; "water's in it."
"What!" said Hans, and he slid down as fast as he could to where his
brother was playing.
There was the tiniest little hole in the bank. Just an air-hole. A drop of
water bubbled slowly through.
"It is a hole in the dike!" cried Hans. "What shall we do?"
He looked all round; not a person or a house in sight. He looked at the
hole; the little drops oozed steadily through; he knew that the water
would soon break a great gap, because that tiny hole gave it a chance.
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