ut a worn bull's hide, also you have my good sword Silence
and I only a wood-man's axe. Still I will risk it, and, what is more,
trusting to your good faith, we are willing to wager the treasure of
Hendrik Brant upon the issue."

So soon as they understood this challenge a roar of laughter went up
from the Spaniards in the boat, in which Ramiro himself joined heartily.
The idea of anyone voluntarily entering upon a single combat with the
terrible Frisian giant, who for months had been a name of fear among the
thousands that beleaguered Haarlem, struck them as really ludicrous.

But of a sudden they ceased laughing, and one and all stared with a
strange anxiety at the bottom of their boat, much as terrier dogs stare
at the earth beneath which they hear invisible vermin on the move. Then
a great shouting arose among them, and they looked eagerly over the
gunwales; yes, and began to stab at the water with their swords. But all
the while through the tumult and voices came a steady, regular sound as
of a person knocking heavily on the further side of a thick door.

"Mother of Heaven!" screamed someone in the cutter, "we are scuttled,"
and they began to tear at the false bottom of their boat, while others
stabbed still more furiously at the surface of the Mere.

Now, rising one by one to the face of that quiet water, could be seen
bubbles, and the line of them ran from the cutter towards the rowing
boat. Presently, within six feet of it, axe in hand, rose the strange
and dreadful figure of a naked, skeleton-like woman covered with mud and
green weeds, and bleeding from great wounds in the back and sides.

There it stood, shaking an axe at the terror-stricken Spaniards, and
screaming in short gasps,

"Paid back! paid back, Ramiro! Now sink and drown, you dog, or come,
visit Red Martin on the shore."

"Well done, Martha," roared Martin, as he dragged her dying into the
boat. While he spoke, lo! the cutter began to fill and sink.

"There is but one chance for it," cried Ramiro, "overboard and at them.
It is not deep," and springing into the water, which reached to his
neck, he began to wade towards the shore.

"Push off," cried Foy, and they thrust and pulled. But the gold was
heavy, and their boat had settled far into the mud. Do what they might,
she would not stir. Then uttering some strange Frisian oath, Martin
sprang over her stern, and putting out all his mighty strength thrust
at it to loose her. Still she would n