rs in the past few hours. His devotion to his daughter was
well known and it was pitiable to see the furrows in his cheeks wet with
continuously falling tears. He sat huddled up within himself, his elbows
resting on the table, his head often buried in his hands when emotion
mastered him, and he felt unable to restrain his tears. He looked like a
man absolutely dazed with the immensity of his grief, as if some one had
dealt him a violent blow on the head which had half-addled his brain.

Throughout the day his house had been positively invaded by the frequent
callers who, under a desire to express their sympathy, merely hid their
eagerness to learn fresh details of the outrage. Cornelius Beresteyn,
harassed by this well-meaning and very noisy crowd and feeling numb in
mind and weary in body, had been too feeble to withstand the urgent
entreaties of his friends who had insisted on dragging him to the "Lame
Cow," where the whole situation--which had become of almost national
importance--could be fully and comprehensively discussed.

"You want to get your daughter back, do you not, old friend?" urged
Mynheer van der Meer the burgomaster.

"Of course," assented Beresteyn feebly.

"And you want to get her back as quickly as possible," added the pompous
treasurer of the Oudemannenhuis.

"As quickly as possible," reiterated Beresteyn vaguely.

"Very well then," concluded the burgomaster, in tones of triumph which
suggested that he had gained a great victory over the obstinate will of
his friend, "what you must do, my good Beresteyn, is to attend an
informal council which I have convened for this afternoon at the 'Lame
Cow' and whereat we will listen to all the propositions put forward by
our fellow-townsmen for the speedy capture of those vervloekte brigands
and the liberation of your beloved daughter."

In the meanwhile an untoward accident had momentarily arrested the
progress of the original band of volunteers who, under the leadership of
Nicolaes Beresteyn, had started quite early in the morning on the
Groningen route in pursuit of the sea-wolves. Nicolaes, namely, on
remounting his horse after a brief halt at Bloemendal, had slipped on
the snow covered ground; his horse jumped aside and reared and, in so
doing, seriously wrenched Nicolaes' right arm, almost dislocating his
shoulder and causing him thereby such excruciating pain that he nearly
fainted on the spot.

Further progress on horseback became an impossibili