axe himself,
and even broader across the shoulders, while upon his bare arms the huge
muscles stood out under the tanned skin like coils of rope. The marshal
felt at once that he could never be comfortable till he had had a trial
of strength with this sturdy-looking fellow; so he bade him bring out one
of his best horse-shoes.

The smith did so; and Saxe, looking at it, said quietly: "This ware of
yours is but poor stuff, my friend; it will not stand work. Look here!"

He took it in his strong hands, and with one twist broke the iron like a
biscuit.

The smith looked at him for a moment, and then, without seeming at all
taken aback, brought out a second horse-shoe, and a third; but Saxe broke
them as easily as he had broken the first.

"Come," said he, "I see it's no use picking and choosing among such a
trashy lot; give me the first shoe that comes to hand, and we'll cry
quits."

The smith produced a fourth shoe, and fitted it on; and Saxe tossed him a
French crown--a coin about the size of a silver dollar. The Dutchman held
it up to the light, and shook his head.

"This coin of yours is but poor metal, mynheer," said he, saying the words
just as the marshal had spoken his. "It wont stand work. Look here!"

He took the coin between his finger and thumb, and with one pinch cracked
it in two like a wafer.[B]

It was now the marshal's turn to stare; and the officers exchanged winks
behind his back, as much as to say that their champion had met his match
at last. Saxe brought out another crown, and then a third; but the smith
served them in like manner.

"Come," said he, imitating the marshal's voice to perfection, "I see it's
no use picking and choosing among such a trashy lot. Give me the first
crown that comes to hand, and we'll cry quits."

The Frenchman looked at the Dutchman--the Dutchman looked at the
Frenchman--and then both burst into a roar of laughter, so loud and hearty
that the officers who stood by could not help joining in.

"Fairly caught!" cried the marshal, suddenly, and added, "What's your
name, my fine fellow?"

"Dirk Hogan, from Scheveningen."

"Dirk Hogan!" cried Saxe. "The very man I've been looking for! But I've
found him in a way I didn't expect!"

"So it seems," said the smith, grinning. "I needn't ask who _you_
are--you're the Count de Saxe, who was always wanting to meet with a
stronger man than himself. Does it seem to you as if you had met with him
now?"

"Well, I rather th