them to ship their oars, and they touched ground.

Leaping from the boat she made it fast and vanished among the reeds
to reconnoitre. Presently she returned again, saying that this was the
place. Then began the heavy labour of rolling the casks of treasure for
thirty yards or more along otter paths that pierced the dense growth of
reeds.

Now, having first carefully cut out reed sods in a place chosen by
Martha, Foy and Martin set to their task of digging a great hole by the
light of the stars. Hard indeed they toiled at it, yet had it not been
for the softness of the marshy soil, they could not have got done while
the night lasted, for the grave that would contain those barrels must
be both wide and deep. After three feet of earth had been removed, they
came to the level of the lake, and for the rest of the time worked in
water, throwing up shovelfuls of mud. Still at last it was done, and
the five barrels standing side by side in the water were covered up with
soil and roughly planted over with the reed turf.

"Let us be going," said Martha. "There is no time to lose." So they
straightened their backs and wiped the sweat from their brows.

"There is earth lying about, which may tell its story," said Martin.

"Yes," she replied, "if any see it within the next ten days, after which
in this damp place the mosses will have hidden it."

"Well, we have done our best," said Foy, as he washed his mud-stained
boots in the water, "and now the stuff must take its chance."

Then once more they entered the boat and rowed away somewhat wearily,
Martha steering them.

On they went and on, till Foy, tired out, nearly fell asleep at his oar.
Suddenly Martha tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and there, not
two hundred yards away, its tapering mast showing dimly against the sky,
was the vessel that had pursued them from The Hague, a single lantern
burning on its stern. Martha looked and grunted; then she leant forward
and whispered to them imperiously.

"It is madness," gasped Martin.

"Do as I bid you," she hissed, and they let the boat drift with the
wind till it came to a little island within thirty yards of the anchored
vessel, an island with a willow tree growing upon its shore. "Hold to
the twigs of the tree," she muttered, "and wait till I come again." Not
knowing what else to do, they obeyed.

Then Martha rose and they saw that she had slipped off her garment of
skins, and stood before them, a gaunt white fig