he dim
sky, was the figure.

"I think that friend Hans has come to life again," said Martin with a
slight quaver in his voice, for Martin was terribly afraid of ghosts.

"And I think that a Spaniard has found us," said Foy, drawing his knife.

Then a hoarse voice spoke, saying, "Who are you that signal for a pilot
on my waters?"

"The question is--who are you?" answered Foy, "and be so good as to tell
us quickly."

"I am the pilot," said the voice, "and this boat by the rig of her and
her signals should be the _Swallow_ of The Hague, but why must I crawl
aboard of her across the corpse of a dead man?"

"Come into the cabin, pilot, and we will tell you," said Foy.

"Very well, Mynheer." So Foy led the way to the cabin, but Martin
stopped behind a while.

"We have found our guide, so what is the use of the lamps?" he said to
himself as he extinguished them all, except one which he brought with
him into the cabin. Foy was waiting for him by the door and they entered
the place together. At the end of it the light of the lamp showed them
a strange figure clad in skins so shapeless and sack-like that it was
impossible to say whether the form beneath were male or female. The
figure was bareheaded, and about the brow locks of grizzled hair hung
in tufts. The face, in which were set a pair of wandering grey eyes,
was deep cut, tanned brown by exposure, scarred, and very ugly, with
withered lips and projecting teeth.

"Good even to you, Dirk van Goorl's son, and to you, Red Martin. I am
Mother Martha, she whom the Spaniards call the Mare and the Lake-witch."

"Little need to tell us that, mother," said Foy, "although it is true
that many years have gone by since I set eyes on you."

Martha smiled grimly as she answered, "Yes, many years. Well, what
have you fat Leyden burghers to do with a poor old night-hag, except
of course in times of trouble? Not that I blame you, for it is not well
that you, or your parents either, should be known to traffic with such
as I. Now, what is your business with me, for the signals show that you
have business, and why does the corpse of Hendrik Brant's foster-brother
lie there in the stern?"

"Because, to be plain, we have Hendrik Brant's treasure on board,
mother, and for the rest look yonder--" and he pointed to what his eye
had just caught sight of two or three miles away, a faint light, too low
and too red for a star, that could only come from a lantern hung at the
masthead of a