“That you may go back to hell to look for it,” replied Martin rudely, while Foy added: 

“What other answer do you expect from folk who have escaped out of your clutches in Haarlem?”

As he said the words, at a nod from Martin, Martha, who by now had crept up to them, under cover of his great form and of surrounding reeds, let go the stern of the boat and vanished.

“Plain words from plain, uncultivated people, not unnaturally irritated by the course of political events with which, although Fortune has mixed me up in them, I have nothing whatever to do,” answered Ramiro.  “But once more I beg of you to consider.  It is probable that you have no food upon your boat, whereas we have plenty.  Also, in due course, darkness will fall, which must give us a certain advantage; moreover, I have reason to hope for assistance.  Therefore, in a waiting game like this the cards are with me, and as I think your poor prisoner, Adrian, will tell you, I know how to play a hand at cards.”

About eight yards from the cutter, in a thick patch of water-lilies, just at this moment an otter rose to take air—­an old dog-otter, for it was grey-headed.  One of the Spaniards in the boat caught sight of the ring it made, and picking up a stone from the ballast threw it at it idly.  The otter vanished.

“We have been seeking each other a long while, but have never come to blows yet, although, being a brave man, I know you would wish it,” said Red Martin modestly.  “Senor Ramiro, will you do me the honour to overlook my humble birth and come ashore with me for a few minutes, man against man.  The odds would be in your favour, for you have armour and I have nothing but 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.