If a storm flood should come again--a flood like the one in 1655, when property and unnumbered human beings were swallowed up--if it should come again, as it had come several times before! A violent shudder came over the rider--the old dike would not hold out against the sudden attack. What then--what would happen then? There would be only one, one single way of possibly saving the old enclosed land with the property and life in it. Hauke felt his heart stand still, his usually so steady head grew dizzy. He did not utter it, but something spoke within him strongly enough: your land, the Hauke-Haien-land, would have to be sacrificed and the new dike pierced. In his mind's eye he saw the rushing tide break in and cover grass and clover with its salty, foaming spray. His spur pricked the flanks of his white horse, which, with a sudden scream, flew along the dike and down the road that led to the hill of the dikemaster. He came home with his head full of inner fright and disorderly plans. He threw himself into his armchair, and when Elke came into the room with their daughter, he rose again, lifted up the child and kissed it. Then he chased away the little yellow dog with a few light slaps. "I have to go up to the inn again," he said, and took his cap from the hook by the door, where he had only just put it. His wife looked at him anxiously. "What do you want to do there? It is near evening, Hauke." "Dike matters!" he muttered. "I'll meet some of the overseers there." She followed him and pressed his hand, for with these words he had already left the door. Hauke Haien, who hitherto had made all decisions by himself, now was eager for a word from those whom he had not considered worthy of taking an interest before. In the room of the tavern he found Ole Peters with two of the overseers and an inhabitant of the district at the card table. "I suppose you come from out there, dikemaster?" said Ole, who took up the already half distributed cards and threw them down again. "Yes, Ole," Hauke replied; "I was there; it looks bad." "Bad? Well, it'll cost a few hundred pieces of sod and a straw covering. I was there too this afternoon. "It won't be done so cheaply, Ole," replied the dikemaster; "the channel is there again, and even if it doesn't hit the old dike from the north, it hits it from the northwest." "You should have left it where you found it," said Ole drily. "That means," returned Hauke, "the new land's none of your business; and therefore it should not exist. That is your own fault. But if we have to make walls to protect the old dike, the green clover behind the new one will bring us a profit above the cost." "What are you saying, dikemaster?" cried the overseers; "Walls? How many? You like to have the most expensive of everything."