So Foy and Martin went down while Martha, hanging over the hatchway, held the lighted lamp above them, since they dared not take it near the powder. Moving the bags of salt, soon they came to the five barrels of treasure marked B, and, strong though they were, it was no easy task for the pair of them by the help of a pulley to sling them over the ship’s side into the boat. At last it was done, and the place of the barrels having been filled with salt bags, they took two iron spades which were provided for such a task as this, and started, Martha steering as before. For an hour or more they rowed in and out among endless islands, at the dim shores of which Martha stared as they passed, till at length she motioned to them to ship their oars, and they touched ground. Leaping from the boat she made it fast and vanished among the reeds to reconnoitre. Presently she returned again, saying that this was the place. Then began the heavy labour of rolling the casks of treasure for thirty yards or more along otter paths that pierced the dense growth of reeds. Now, having first carefully cut out reed sods in a place chosen by Martha, Foy and Martin set to their task of digging a great hole by the light of the stars. Hard indeed they toiled at it, yet had it not been for the softness of the marshy soil, they could not have got done while the night lasted, for the grave that would contain those barrels must be both wide and deep. After three feet of earth had been removed, they came to the level of the lake, and for the rest of the time worked in water, throwing up shovelfuls of mud. Still at last it was done, and the five barrels standing side by side in the water were covered up with soil and roughly planted over with the reed turf. “Let us be going,” said Martha. “There is no time to lose.” So they straightened their backs and wiped the sweat from their brows. “There is earth lying about, which may tell its story,” said Martin. “Yes,” she replied, “if any see it within the next ten days, after which in this damp place the mosses will have hidden it.” “Well, we have done our best,” said Foy, as he washed his mud-stained boots in the water, “and now the stuff must take its chance.” Then once more they entered the boat and rowed away somewhat wearily, Martha steering them. On they went and on, till Foy, tired out, nearly fell asleep at his oar. Suddenly Martha tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up and there, not two hundred yards away, its tapering mast showing dimly against the sky, was the vessel that had pursued them from The Hague, a single lantern burning on its stern. Martha looked and grunted; then she leant forward and whispered to them imperiously. “It is madness,” gasped Martin.