A short sail on board the yacht took the party to the point which had been selected for their picnic, at which other yachts of a similar construction quickly arrived, and the viands they had brought were then carried on shore, and spread under the shade of the trees. Mynheer Bunckum before long made his appearance, looking gloomy and morose, as he observed the strangers. The Count and the Baron were introduced to a number of persons, who did their best to make themselves agreeable. The feast having concluded, at which if there was not much wit there was a great deal of laughter, the party retreated to a more shady spot, where the Count was requested to favour them with an air on his violin. He gladly complied, and elicited general applause, greatly to the annoyance of Mynheer Bunckum, who, getting up, retired to a distance, and sat himself down, fishing-rod in hand, on a point which projected into the lake, as if such music was not worth listening to.

Meantime a boat had arrived on the beach containing three or four urchins from a neighbouring village, one of whom climbed up on a bank overlooking the spots where the party were collected, and the dinner cloth was spread. He had so placed himself that he could make a signal to his companions: two of these shortly afterwards getting out of their boat, and seeing him beckon, cautiously crept along the shore towards where the party had been enjoying their meal. There was no doubt about their object: they filled not only their capacious pockets, but some large handkerchiefs which they had brought, with everything on which they could lay their hands, especially the silver spoons and forks and other plate. Then at a sign from their companion they rapidly retreated, he quickly following, unnoticed by Mynheer Bunckum or any one else. On reaching their boat, away they pulled with their booty, and were soon out of sight. The Baron and two or three other gentlemen, whose appetites had not been fully satisfied, returned shortly after this to the table, if so it could be called, and though they observed that some of the things had been disarranged, it did not occur to them that the spot had been visited by robbers. The Baron was the last to leave and return to the ladies. Not till the servants came to pack up the plates and dishes, and knives and forks, was the robbery discovered. Just then Mynheer Bunckum, who had got tired of fishing, and had returned to the table, on hearing that several articles were missing, exclaimed:

"I know who is the robber, I saw what that Baron was about. I shall now be able to prove that my suspicions were correct!"

He, however, made no further remark at the time, so that the harmony which had prevailed during the picnic was not disturbed. On the approach of evening the various parties separated to their different homes. The Count and the Baron accompanied Mynheer Van Arent and his family to theirs, whence after a friendly farewell they returned to their inn.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The day following the picnic on the Meer, the Count and the Baron set out to pay a visit to the Van Arent family. As yet, however, they could not tell whether the courteous treatment they had received was simply owing to their being strangers of rank. The Count fancied that his performances on the violin, and the Baron supposed that his fascinating powers of conversation, and other attractive qualities, had something to do with it. On reaching the house they were told that the ladies had gone to take a walk at some distance.

"Perhaps we may meet them," said the Count to the Baron.

They inquired of the servant in what direction the ladies had gone. He pointed to the northward, and they set out; they walked on and on till they arrived at a wood, such as is not often found in that part of the country, and they observed an ancient tower with battlements rising up amid the trees.

"This looks like an interesting place," observed the Count, "let us explore it."

"By all means," answered the Baron. And they walked on with that air of curiosity generally exhibited by strangers when arriving at a place worth seeing.

"Fine trees and shady walks, really my castle scarcely exhibits anything finer; if I marry the fair Isabelle, it's just the sort of place I should like to possess; but we may pay it a hurried visit," said the Count.

"Then it is the Vrouw Isabelle on whom your regards are fixed?" observed the Baron.

"It was but a slip of my tongue," said the Count. "I did not intend to betray my secret."

"All right, my dear Count; to say the truth, my heart has been captivated by the Vrouw Margaret, so that we shall not be rivals."

"That is a fortunate circumstance," observed the Count, in a somewhat supercilious tone. "However, you must remember that we, both of us, have to ascertain the feelings of the ladies; at present we are left somewhat in the dark on that subject."

"I cannot say that I think so," answered the Baron, drawing up his shirt-collar. "I flatter myself that the Vrouw Margaret regards me with peculiar distinction."

"Did I possess more vanity in this case, I might have said the same with regard to Vrouw Isabelle," said the Count.

"You do, do you!" exclaimed a voice from among the bushes, which made the Count and the Baron start.

"Who could that have been?" exclaimed the Count.

"Where did it come from?" cried the Baron.

"Let us try to discover the eavesdropper," said the Count.

"We had better not," whispered the Baron. "Depend upon it the person, whoever he is, is prepared for us. We had better move on, and not in future talk so loudly of our private affairs."

"Your advice is good," said the Count; "we will follow it."

And they moved on a short distance, paying much less attention than before to the beauties of the scenery. They had just reached the neighbourhood of what appeared to be an old summer-house, now neglected and disused, for it was thickly overgrown with ivy and various creepers. Looking up close to it they observed a board, on which was painted in large letters, "Whoever is found trespassing in these grounds will be punished with the utmost rigour of the law." Scarcely had they read this unpleasant announcement, when they observed at the farther end of the walk a party of men, who from their costume were evidently huntsmen or gamekeepers, led by a person whom they recognised at a glance as Mynheer Bunckum, their jealous rival.

"There are the robbers! There are the impostors! There are those thieves and vagabonds, who have come here pretending to be noblemen travelling for their pleasure. On! on! seize them, my men! treat them with no ceremony."

Mynheer Bunckum, though he shouted, did not move himself, and his followers appeared to hesitate for a few moments. This gave time to the Count and Baron to retreat behind the summer-house.

"Come along, Count, we must trust to our legs to escape from these fellows," cried the Baron, and he set off running as fast as he could go.

"Stop! stop!" cried the Count. "You will be seen to a certainty and overtaken; come in here, I perceive an opening, and we shall be able to lie hid, while our jealous rival passes by."

The Baron, however, did not hear him, but still rushed on.

"I shall be seen if I attempt to run," thought the Count. Without more ado he slipped through an opening in the side of the wall, in his hurry forgetting to feel his way. He had made but a few steps when, to his dismay, he found himself descending, and fully believed that he was about to be precipitated down a well. Greatly to his relief he reached the bottom sooner than he had expected.

"Here, at all events, I shall be secure while our jealous rival and his men are hunting about for me; but I am afraid the Baron has very little chance of escaping. I might have got into rather a pleasanter place; it is somewhat damp; I hear the frogs croaking, and feel the slippery efts and other creatures crawling about. I only hope that there are no venomous snakes; but, by the by, how am I ever to get out again? We should have acted more wisely had we walked up boldly to Mynheer Bunckum, and apologising for having entered his grounds, wished him good morning. It is entirely owing to the Baron's cowardice that I am placed in this very unpleasant position."

Such were the thoughts which passed through the Count's mind, for he did not speak them aloud. He heard the voices of Mynheer Bunckum and his men, as they searched round and round the building, but none of them looked into the well, or if they did, failed to discover him. At length, to his great relief, their voices grew less and less distinct, and he was satisfied that they were moving on.

"At all events this delay will have enabled the Baron to make his escape, and I hope that by and by, when these people have given up the search, I shall be able to rejoin him," he thought.

Meantime the Baron had continued his course. Not being much accustomed to running, he soon began to puff and blow, and wish that he could find some place in which to hide himself, and recover his wind. Instead of taking the direct path along which he and the Count had come, rightly suspecting that if he did so he should quickly be observed, he turned aside to a wilder part of the wood; he stopped every now and then to try and recover his breath, and to ascertain if the Count was following. Having no landmark to direct him, he completely lost himself, and became very uncertain whether he was making his way out of the wood, or only getting further into it.

"It was very selfish and unmannerly in Count Funnibos not to accompany me," he said to himself. "We might have helped each other out of this difficulty; and, indeed, at any moment Mynheer Bunckum and his myrmidons may overtake me, and in the vicious mood they are in, I do not know how I shall be treated. Ah! there I see a large hollow tree. Yes, there is an opening at the bottom, I will creep in and try to conceal myself within the stem till the hue and cry is over."

Suiting the action to the word, the Baron knelt down, and was about to crawl into the opening when he saw a movement of the bushes at a little distance off, and presently a head popped up above them.

"I hope that I was not observed," he thought, and he quickly crawled in at the hole, unfortunately, as he did so, knocking off his hat, which rolled away on one side; he dared not crawl out again to look for it, and could only hope that it would be concealed by the tall grass and underwood which grew around. The Baron stood trembling and quaking in his boots, every moment expecting to be discovered, while he felt sure that the face of which he had caught a glimpse was no other than that of the jealous rival.

He listened anxiously; he could hear the cracking of the boughs, and then the sound of footsteps approaching. Nearer and nearer drew the footsteps; presently he heard an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, this is the hat of one of them," said a voice.

"Yes; it is that of the fat, ridiculous little man who pretended to be a Baron," answered a female voice.

Was it possible? Yes, the Baron felt sure that the voice was that of the fair Vrouw Margaret on whom he had placed his affections.

"Little doubt whose hat it is," observed the first speaker. "Very likely his pockets are even now full of your father's and Mynheer Baskerville's plate. What shall we do with him if we catch him?"

"I must leave him to your tender mercies," said Vrouw Margaret. "As he deceived us so grossly I cannot plead for him. Punish him as you think fit, and then let him go, if he will promise not to come near our house again."

"We have not caught him yet, though," observed Mynheer Bunckum. "But here come my men, and we'll make a thorough search in the neighbourhood."

The Baron at this trembled more and more; while Mynheer Bunckum and Vrouw Margaret were speaking he heard several other persons approaching, who had, he judged by the remarks they let fall, been searching in vain for the Count. No one seemed to remark the hole in the tree; indeed, probably judging by the Baron's figure, they did not suppose that he could have crawled into it.

"The chances are the two went off together," remarked one of the keepers, "and by this time they are well out of the park."

"But what about this head-piece?" said Mynheer Bunckum, holding up the Baron's hat.

"He may have dropped it in his flight," said the keeper.

"If that is the case, we ought to be still pursuing them," said Mynheer Bunckum. "On, my men, and bring them back to me dead or alive! Come, Vrouw Margaret, we will continue our ramble; really, it is scarcely worth while to take so much trouble about the capture of these contemptible people, were it not to recover your father's and Mynheer Baskerville's plate."

They had gone but a short distance when they observed one of the keepers returning.

"I must hurry on the others," said Mynheer Bunckum. "Stay but a moment, my fair Vrouw, and I will return to you," he said, and hastened away.

Just then a shout fell on the ear of Vrouw Margaret, and she made her way in the direction from which it proceeded, when looking over the bushes she caught sight of the keeper dragging on the unfortunate Baron by the collar of his coat. The keeper was a knowing fellow, a strong, sturdy Frieslander. Suddenly it struck him that the Baron, in spite of his rotund figure, might have crept into the hole at the bottom of the old oak; and as the Baron's hat had been found near it, he divined, and truly, that it had been knocked off while the Baron was creeping in. He accordingly had gone back for the purpose of ascertaining whether his suspicions were correct. Putting in his hand, he felt one leg, then he felt another. The Baron in vain tried to draw them up out of the way; the sturdy Frieslander hauled and hauled much in the same way as he would have pulled a snake out of its hole, and dragged the hapless Baron out of the hollow tree.

"I have got you, Mynheer, have I?" he said, looking at the Baron's pale countenance. "Why did you hide? Honest men do not try to conceal themselves. Come along, and answer for yourself to Mynheer Bunckum, and tell us what has become of your companion."

The Baron was too much alarmed to reply or to offer any resistance; indeed, in the grasp of the sturdy Frieslander it would have been useless, so like a lamb he accompanied his captor. Suddenly, however, he saw a fair face looking over the bushes—it was that of the Vrouw Margaret. The sight aroused all the manhood within him; he knew himself to be innocent, he knew that the treatment he was receiving was owing to the ill-feeling of a jealous rival. He determined to show that he would not submit tamely to be ill-treated, and suddenly starting forward he endeavoured to free himself from the grasp of his captor. A fatal resolution—the Frieslander in a moment tripped up his heels, and down he fell with his face on the ground, while the Frieslander knelt over him exclaiming—

"You will escape me, will you! you are mistaken, Mynheer;" and, his anger aroused, seizing the Baron by the hair, he rubbed his face in the muddy ground.

In vain the Baron tried to free himself, in vain he tried to cry out; the moment he opened his mouth, down went his face again into the mud till he was well-nigh suffocated.

"Will not you, Vrouw Margaret, have pity on me? Will you not interfere to save me from this cruel indignity?" he exclaimed, but the Vrouw Margaret calmly watched the proceedings of the sturdy Frieslander as if she highly approved of them.

"Will you go along quietly?" asked the Frieslander, after he had subjected the Baron for some minutes to this disagreeable treatment. "Say 'yes,' or 'no;' for, if you say 'no,' be prepared for another mouthful of mud."

"Yes, yes; I will go!" cried the Baron, the conduct of the fair Vrouw cutting him to the heart.

"Well, then, I will let you get up; but remember, the instant you attempt to release yourself, down you go again, and perhaps in a less pleasant place than the last." Saying this the sturdy Frieslander placed the Baron on his legs.

"Come, you must wash the mud off your face in yonder pool," said the Frieslander, "for you look more ridiculous than you can well imagine."

The Baron accepted his captor's offer, for not only his mouth and nostrils, but his very eyes were filled with mud.

"Come, you look a little less ridiculous now," said the Frieslander with a taunting laugh, as he led the Baron past the spot where, Vrouw Margaret was standing. In vain the Baron stretched out his hands and entreated her to plead for him, but she turned aside her head, and his captor dragged him along till they met Mynheer Bunckum and the rest of his men.

"I have got one of them!" cried the Frieslander. "What is to be done with him? I have not yet examined his pockets, so cannot say whether the stolen plate is in them."

"We will soon ascertain that," said Mynheer Bunckum.

The unfortunate Baron Stilkin was subjected to the indignity of being searched. Only such ordinary things as a gentleman carries about with him were discovered in the Baron's pockets, but certainly no silver forks or spoons.

"And where is your companion?" asked Mynheer Bunckum in an authoritative tone.

"I know no more than the man in the moon. I parted from him when we read the notice that trespassers on this estate would be prosecuted; till then we did not know that we were trespassing, but on discovering that such was the case, we were retiring when, your shouts alarming us, we proceeded farther than we should otherwise have done."

"Then you say you know nothing about the so-called Count Funnibos?"

"I know nothing about the real Count Funnibos, for real he is, as I am a real Baron!" cried the ill-treated noble, his spirits rising once more. "I conclude that he is by this time out of these grounds, and on his way to the inn where we are residing; and I must beg you to understand, Mynheer, that we shall forthwith proceed to the Hague, and lay a formal complaint before our Ambassador of the way in which we distinguished foreigners have been treated."

"I will take the consequences," answered Mynheer Bunckum; and turning to his servants, he said, "We have no evidence against the man; conduct him to the confines of the estate, and with such kicks as you feel disposed to bestow, let him go his way."

"I protest, I loudly protest against this treatment!" cried the Baron.

But the sturdy Frieslander with his companions, utterly regardless of all the Baron could say, dragged him along till they reached the outskirts of the estate, when, placing him before them, they bade him run for his life, which to the best of his power he endeavoured to do to save himself from the kicks they had threatened to bestow. On he ran, not once looking behind him, followed by the derisive laughter of the sturdy Frieslander and his companions.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Mynheer Bunckum's head butler or steward, a person who was looked upon with great respect on account of the embroidered coat he wore, was passing, shortly after the events narrated in our last chapter, the ruined building in which the Count, unable to release himself, still lay concealed, when a groan reached his ear. Not being a believer in ghosts or goblins, on hearing it he exclaimed, "Oh, oh! that's a human voice; somebody must have tumbled down the well. Whoever that somebody is, I will get him out; but how that is to be done is the question." He hunted about till he discovered a hay-rake with a long handle. "This will serve me as a fishing-rod, and I should not be surprised to find a fish at the end of it." The steward accordingly went to an opening in the wall just above the well; he plunged down the rake and quickly brought it up without anything at the end. "I must try again," he said, and he passed it round the wall. "I have got something now," he exclaimed, and he began to haul away. "A heavy fish at all events," he cried out. Though a muscular man, as most Frieslanders are, he had a hard job to haul up the rake. At last, stooping down, his hand came in contact with the collar of a man's coat. He hauled and hauled away; his rake had caught in the hyacinthine locks of Count Funnibos, whose countenance of a cadaverous hue now came in sight.

"Ho, ho!" cried the steward. "Who are you, may I ask?"

The Count was too much exhausted and alarmed to make any answer, and even when the steward set him on his legs, he had to lean against the ivied wall to support himself.

"You are the person, I have a notion, who has been giving us all this trouble," said the steward, looking the Count in the face. "If so, come along with me, and my master, Mynheer Bunckum, will know what to say to you."

"I had no intention of giving you or any one else any trouble," answered the Count, when he at last found words to express himself. "I am much obliged to you for pulling me out of that dreadful hole, and shall be still further obliged if you will brush my clothes, and then conduct me through these grounds so that I may return to my hotel, which I am anxious to reach this evening."

The steward on hearing this, instead of acceding to the Count's request, burst into a loud fit of laughter.

"Ho, ho, ho! Very likely indeed," he answered. "You must come along with me into the presence of Mynheer Bunckum, and he will settle how to dispose of you."

"But I have no wish to see Mynheer Bunckum," said the Count; "indeed, I have a decided objection to do so. He has allowed the most unjust suspicions to take possession of his mind."

"I care not a pin for your objections," said the steward. "Come along with me, I can waste no further time: come along, I say;" and the steward laying hold of the Count by one arm, and the collar of his coat with the other hand, walked him along the path towards the castle in the fashion policemen are wont to treat offenders in the streets of London. The Count was too weak from hunger, alarm, and fatigue to offer any resistance, and allowed himself to be conducted in the direction the steward chose to go. They soon reached the castle; the steward, on inquiring for Mynheer Bunckum, was informed that he had gone out with the fair daughters of Mynheer Van Arent.

"Then there is but one thing to be done," observed the steward. "We must lock up this stranger in the dungeon till our master returns. Where are the keys?" They were quickly brought to him, and aided by the domestics of the establishment, he led the Count down a flight of stone steps to the dungeon.

"My friend," said the Count, who was beginning to recover, "this is very extraordinary treatment, but I presume you are acting under orders. I have a request to make. I am very hungry, and shall feel grateful if you will bring me some food; and, as I scarcely know otherwise how to pass the period of my incarceration, I shall be still further obliged if you will supply me with a violin, should you have such an instrument in the castle."

"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the steward. "Then you are a strolling musician, as we have heard it reported. Well, we happen to have a violin, for I play it myself, and you shall be supplied with food, as I conclude Mynheer Bunckum would not wish to starve you to death."

"Thank you, my good friend, I am much obliged to you for your promise; at the same time, I beg leave to remark that I am not a strolling musician, but am as I represent myself, Count Funnibos."

"That is neither here nor there," said the steward, "you shall have the food and you shall have the violin; now please go down those steps, and make yourself as much at home as you like."

Finding resistance useless, the Count descended the steps into a large vaulted chamber, which appeared from the contents on which the light fell through the open door, to be used as a lumber-room or store-room rather than as a prison.

"Is this a fit place in which to thrust a gentleman?" said the Count, feeling his dignity considerably hurt. "Had it been a dungeon, with chains and bolts and bars, it would have been only such as many an unfortunate nobleman has been compelled to inhabit. But to be treated as if I were a piece of lumber is unbearable."

"We have no such refined opinions in this country, Mynheer," said the steward, with a grin on his countenance. "But make yourself happy, there is a chest for you to sit on and another on which your supper shall be placed. As to your bed and bedding we will see about that by-and-by, and the violin you ask for shall be brought forthwith. Perhaps in return you will favour me with a tune, as I am a lover of music, and shall be pleased to hear you play."

The Count, who, though not very wise in all matters, made the best of everything, sat himself down on the chest with folded arms to consider how, under the disagreeable circumstances in which he was placed, it would be best to act. "One thing is very clear, that Mynheer Bunckum has got the upper hand of me. The best thing I can do as soon as I obtain my liberty is to take my departure. The fair Isabelle may or may not care a stiver for me, and if she does not I must wish her farewell and try to forget her charms."

Just as he had arrived at this wise resolution the door opened, and the steward reappeared with a violin in his hand, followed by a servant bringing a very respectable supper.

"Thank you, my friend, thank you," said the Count, getting up; "I should be happy to show you my gratitude at once by playing a tune, but I think that I shall play with more spirit after I have partaken of this food, for, as you may suppose, I am pretty well starved."

"I shall be happy to await your pleasure," said the steward, who was struck by the Count's polite manner, and lifting up the dish-covers he helped him liberally to the contents of the dishes. The Count, considering all things, did ample justice to the meal set before him, as well as to a bottle of Rhenish wine.

"I might have been worse off," he observed, greatly revived. "And now you shall have a tune."

Whereon, taking the fiddle and screwing up the keys, he began to play in a way which astonished the Friesian steward.

"Really, you are a master of the art, Mynheer," he observed. "Such notes have never before proceeded from that violin."

"I am happy to please you," answered the Count, "And now I must beg you, as soon as your master returns, to request that he will either set me at liberty and have me conveyed safely back to my hotel, or else give me better accommodation than this vault offers for the night."

The steward faithfully promised to carry out the Count's wishes, and, observing that he had duties to attend to, took his leave. The Count then, resuming his violin, once more began to play; the tunes he chose were such as especially suited his present feelings; they were of a gentle, pathetic character, often mournful and touching. He played on and on. Little was he aware who was listening to them. Could he have looked through the thick walls of his dungeon, he would have beheld a female form, her handkerchief to her eyes, leaning on the parapet of a terrace which ran along one of its sides. The lady whose tender feelings he had excited was no other than Isabelle Van Arent, who, with her sister and father and mother, had come that afternoon to pay a visit to Mynheer Bunckum. At length the Count ceased playing, and the lady tore herself away from the spot to rejoin her family, to whom she could not refrain from speaking of the pathetic music to which she had been listening.

"Oh, that must have been my steward, Hans Gingel. I know he plays the fiddle," observed Mynheer Bunckum, "and he sometimes goes to some out-of-the-way corner that he may not disturb the rest of the household, who are not generally inclined to be enraptured by his music."

"But he must, I assure you, be a very good player," urged the fair Isabelle.

"I dare say he can manage to produce a few good notes sometimes," said Mynheer Bunckum, in a careless tone. "Probably distance lent enchantment to the sound. I will not advise you to allow him to play very near at hand."

Vrouw Isabelle looked puzzled, and began to fancy that her ears had deceived her; at all events, the Count had not obtained the advocate he might have gained, had she known who was the hidden musician to whom she had been listening. Mynheer Bunckum waited till his guests were gone, when he summoned his steward, Hans Gingel. "Has anything been heard of the other stranger?" he asked.

"I have him safe enough in the dungeon," answered the steward. "He is not a bad fellow after all, as he takes the way he has been treated with wonderful good humour." And the steward described the mode in which he had hauled the Count out of the well. "He is a rare player, too, on the violin, and I lent him mine to amuse himself with."

"Then it was not your music with which Vrouw Isabelle was so delighted just now," observed Mynheer Bunckum.

"No, no, no!" answered the steward laughing, "my strains are not calculated to draw tears from a lady's eyes; to tell you the truth, Mynheer, I believe he is a Count after all."

"His playing only agrees with the story of his being a travelling musician," observed Mynheer Bunckum.

"But travelling musicians are not as polite and well-mannered as our prisoner," said the steward. "I know a gentleman when I meet him."

"But supposing he is a real Count, and the other fellow who was so unceremoniously kicked out of the place is a Baron, I may be somewhat in a scrape," said Mynheer Bunckum.

"I will enable you to get out of it, then," said Hans Gingel. "Let me visit the prisoner, and propose to him to make his escape. He has really won my regard, and I should be glad, were it not displeasing to you, to set him at liberty. He will only be too happy, I suspect, to get away, and will probably not trouble you, or the family of Mynheer Van Arent, any longer by his presence."

"But I accused him and his companion of stealing the plate at the picnic, and I certainly do not know who else could have taken it," said Mynheer Bunckum.

"As to that, I am sure he is incapable of such an act, and he would not associate with any person who was. I am, therefore, of opinion that neither he nor the Baron stole the plate; indeed, one of the men on board the yacht told me that he observed a boat with several boys approach the shore during the picnic, and that they climbed up the bank, as he supposed, to amuse themselves by watching what was going forward, or to obtain a few cakes or sweetmeats which any of the party might be disposed to give them. Now, since the plate is missing, it is much more than probable that those young monkeys took it, and, if search is made in the village, probably it will be found that they were the thieves."

"That alters the whole complexion of affairs," observed Mynheer Bunckum. "I am satisfied that the Baron, if such he is, will not become my rival, and Vrouw Isabelle is free to choose whom she will; therefore by all means set the Count at liberty as you propose, only don't let him know that I am aware of what you are doing, and advise him and his companion to take their departure from this part of the country as soon as possible."

"I will carry out your orders, Mynheer," was the answer. The steward waited, however, till night closed in, when, with a lantern in hand, he repaired to the dungeon.

"Count Funnibos," he said, "for such I believe you truly are, your music, and your manners, and your gentle behaviour have completely won my heart; and as I took you prisoner under what, you will allow, were somewhat suspicious circumstances, I must give myself the privilege of setting you free; and if you will consent to leave as I advise, you may do so without difficulty or danger, and by to-morrow morning be far beyond the reach of those whom you may look upon as enemies."

The Count thought for some moments before he replied. He recollected that he had been unjustly imprisoned, accused of robbery, and insulted by the lord of the mansion; but it would save a vast deal of trouble to himself and everybody else if he were to go away and let the matter drop. He quickly, therefore, decided on the latter course.

"I accept your offer, my friend," he answered. "When shall we set out?"

"I would advise you, Count, to wait for some hours, till everyone is in bed, and there is no risk of your being discovered and followed. I will then come for you, and conduct you down to the river, where you will find numerous boats in which you can cross the Meer, and soon make your way to the seaboard; and thence either proceed to Amsterdam by water, or go across the Zuyder Zee to Hoorn, or any other place on its shore."

"Your plan just suits my fancy," said the Count. "But my friend and companion, Baron Stilkin, what will become of him?"

"You can write and tell him to join you at whatever place you may happen to reach," said Hans Gingel. "It would cause considerable delay were you to go back to your inn."

The Count thought the matter over, and reflected that it would be very pleasant to enjoy a few days of independent action.

"I have an idea," he said to the steward. "I will write a note to Baron Stilkin desiring him to return to Amsterdam, and to wait for me there, if you will undertake to have it delivered."

"Very gladly, Mynheer," answered Hans Gingel. "I will get you paper and pens. Now, if you can rest in tolerable comfort propped up between these chests, I will come for you at the hour named, and as you may grow hungry, bring you some more food to stay your appetite." The note to the Baron was written, the Count discussed the second supper, and, having recovered from his fatigue, was perfectly ready, when the steward appeared, to make his escape from the castle.

"Tread softly," said the steward, as he led the way up the steps. "It is important not to awaken Mynheer Bunckum or any of the servants. I have shut up the dogs, so that they will not bark unless they hear a noise."

Cautiously they proceeded, the steward holding a lantern and the Count following close at his heels. They were soon out of the dungeon, when the steward, turning to the right, led the way along a narrow passage which conducted them to the opposite side of the building. The steward then, producing a key from his pocket, opened a door, the lock gliding back smoothly as if it had been well oiled, they passed on, and the Count found himself in the open air.

"We are now outside the castle," whispered the steward; "but should Mynheer Bunckum look out of his window he might perhaps fancy that we are thieves, and fire off his blunderbuss at our heads; so be cautious, and do not speak above a whisper till we get to a distance."

"I am afraid that I shall not be able to find my way in the dark," whispered the Count.

"Do not be anxious on that subject," answered the steward. "I intend to accompany you till day breaks, and see you safe on the high road." They walked on and on till day began to dawn. The fresh morning air revived the Count's spirits, and he was more than ever satisfied with himself at the thoughts of starting on an independent tour without the company of the Baron.

"I will buy a gun, and a knapsack, and a telescope, and a shooting-dress, and will trudge across the country, living on the produce of the chase. I saw a vast number of birds as we came along on the canals and borders of the Meers, and I shall have no lack of sport. Such a life suits my present mood."

"A very excellent plan," observed the steward; "but I would advise you to employ some more rapid means of locomotion than your own legs afford till you get to a distance from this. Mynheer Bunckum may be wandering about in the Neighbourhood, and should he fall in with you the consequences may be disagreeable."

"I will take your advice, my friend," said the Count; "but I must first procure the gun and the telescope, the knapsack and the shooting-dress."

"Certainly, and I shall be happy to assist you in that object. We can at once proceed to Sneek, which being one of the chief places of the province of Friesland, everything you require can be procured."

"I am overwhelmed by your kindness, and I accept your offer," said the Count. And they proceeded on their way, having stopped to breakfast at a house of a friend of the steward.

They reached Sneek about noon. The articles the Count required were speedily procured.

"And now farewell, my friend," he said, taking the steward's hand. "We are brothers of the bow, and I look upon you as a friend who has rendered me an essential service, although you did haul me out of the well in a somewhat rough fashion."

The steward made an appropriate answer, and they parted—he to return to Bunckum Castle, the Count to proceed to the southward.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

The Count, as evening approached, reached the borders of a Meer a short distance from the Zuyder Zee. It was fringed by trees and by tall reeds almost as high as the trees, which grew partly in the water and partly out of it. "If I could find a boat I might take a passage in her to the other side of the Meer, and thus continuing my journey obtain rest at the same time," he thought.

He hunted about, and at last found a path, at the further end of which he observed a barge with her bows run into the bank. Having left his knapsack and gun on the bank, he stepped on board, thinking that some of the crew might appear. Seeing no one, he was again going on shore, when the after hatch was flung open and three huge heads adorned by nightcaps, with big staring eyes expressive of wonder, popped up, each face being more ugly than the other.

"Who are you?" asked the first.

"What business have you on board here?" inquired a second.

"Where do you come from, where do you want to go?" asked a third, the ugliest of all three.

"Really, gentlemen," said the Count, bowing, for he was always polite, "you overwhelm me with questions. My object is to cross the Meer, or to get to some inn or farmhouse where I may pass the night in comfort."

"Ho, ho, ho!" exclaimed the last speaker. "You will not find any inn or farmhouse where you can pass the night on the borders of this Meer, but we'll give you a passage to the other end, for which we are bound when we have had our suppers, always provided you are willing to pay for it."

"Certainly," replied the Count. "I am willing to pay for everything I obtain. Your barge looks like a very safe one, and I will therefore engage a passage."

"Safe! I should think she was safe," answered the ugly individual. "It would require a gale to upset her with all sail hoisted. Trust Captain Jan Dunck for that."

Upon this the Count looked harder than before at the ugly man's countenance. "What, are you Captain Jan Dunck?" he inquired.

"No doubt about that, though I do not command so large a craft as formerly," said the ugly man. "If I mistake not, you are Count Funnibos, whom I, once upon a time, brought round from Antwerp, and landed at Amsterdam."

"No, you did not land me at Amsterdam," answered the Count; "you landed me on the island of Marken, when you played that scurvy trick upon poor Pieter. I thought that you had been lost."

"So I nearly was, for the Golden Hog went down, but my mate and small ship's boy were saved. Here is one of them."

The mate gave a wink of recognition.

"So you want me to carry you across the lake—is that it?" continued the skipper.

"Such is my wish," said the Count, though, at the same time, he felt very doubtful about trusting himself and his fortunes to Captain Jan Dunck.

"Well, we'll get under weigh immediately," said the skipper. "Though there is no wind, we can pole the barge a considerable part of the distance."

"But I must first get my luggage, my fowling-piece, my knapsack, and telescope," said the Count.

"Well, be sharp about it," answered the skipper. "Time and tide wait for no man."

"But there is no tide in this lake, and you did not appear to be in a hurry when I came on board," said the Count.

"For the best of reasons, we were fast asleep," answered the skipper, as the Count went for his luggage, which neither the skipper, the mate, nor the crew offered to carry for him. He therefore brought it on board himself, for he had become wonderfully independent during his travels. He sat himself down on his knapsack, expecting that the skipper would at once get under weigh; but that individual, instead of doing so, dived again below, followed by his mate and his crew, to discuss some supper which they had stowed away in a locker.

While the Count sat awaiting the return of the skipper and his crew on deck, he observed another boat in the distance, in which was a single man. The person appeared to have been watching the barge, and now cautiously approached, using a paddle, so as to make as little noise as possible. He was apparently about to address the Count when the skipper popped up his head, with his mouth full of food, on which the stranger immediately began to row away in an opposite direction.

"Hilloa, you! have you anything to say to me? If not, keep your distance, or you will have to smart for it!" shouted the skipper.

The stranger made no reply, but rowed slowly away, and Captain Jan Dunck again dived into the cabin. The stranger then stopped, and made a sign to the Count. Soon afterwards the mate and the crew, returning on deck, cast off the rope which secured the barge to the bank, and taking up some long spars, began to pole out into the lake, while the skipper sat at the helm smoking his pipe. He smoked and smoked as he used to do on board the Golden Hog, but did not invite the Count to join him. After some time the water became too deep for poling, and the mate and the crew took to their oars. The water was calm, and there appeared to be no possibility of danger; but yet the Count did not feel altogether comfortable.

"And so you say that one-eyed Pieter threatened to bring me to justice?" growled Captain Jan Dunck.

"I said nothing of the sort," answered the Count; "I told you that the Baron and I took one-eyed Pieter on board our boat. Had he been drowned, you would have been guilty of his death; and you ought to be thankful to me for saving you from committing so great a crime."

"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the skipper, and his mate and crew laughed in chorus. After the crew had rowed for some time, an island appeared in view, with dunes, or sandhills, rising over a considerable portion. It was a barren-looking spot, as far as the Count could judge in the fast increasing gloom of night.

"We are going to put into the shore there," said the skipper, pointing to it. "If you take my advice, you will land."

"But that is not the sort of place to which I wish to go," said the Count. "My object on board your barge was to take a passage to some habitable region, where I could obtain food, rest, and shelter."

"The sea-gulls will afford you plenty of food; as to rest, you can lie down on the sand; and as for shelter, your pocket-handkerchief will afford you as much as you are likely to find."

"I protest against being so treated," said the Count, naturally growing indignant.

"To whom do you protest," asked the skipper, "to me or my crew? There's no one else to hear you, and we do not care the snuff of a candle for your protestations."

The mate and the crew uttered not a word.

"I must submit to my hard destiny," thought the Count; "I have not made a very brilliant commencement of my sporting adventures, but I set out with the intention of shooting birds, and apparently the island abounds with them."

In a short time the barge touched the sandy beach.

"You will step on shore, Count Funnibos," said the skipper, with an ill-favoured grin on his countenance.

"But I have paid my passage-money, and I protest."

"We settled that point some time ago," said the skipper; "you will step on shore, as I have just remarked."

The Count looked at the mate and the crew. Their countenances wore the same ill-favoured expression as did that of the skipper. They merely placed a plank from the bow of the barge to the beach.

"You will walk along the plank, Count Funnibos," said the skipper.

The Count took up his knapsack, his gun, and his telescope, and, shrugging his shoulders with as dignified an air as he could assume, obeyed. The moment he had set foot on the island, the plank was withdrawn and his retreat cut off. Directly afterwards the mate and the crew shoved the barge away from the shore, and began rowing as before, while the skipper resumed his seat at the helm, and puffed calmly from his pipe, as if he had just performed some meritorious act. A few sea-birds came flying in with loud cries and shrieks from their daily fishing excursions over the waters, but they would not have afforded him a palatable meal even if he had shot one of them.

"The sand is soft, that is one comfort," he thought; "and there are no wild beasts, wolves, or bears to trouble me; it might have rained, or there might have been a strong cold wind, or I might have been more hungry than I am; so I might have been worse off. A boat of some sort will probably be passing during the day and take me off. I may at present consider myself very like that great hero, Robinson Crusoe, or any other mariner who has been wrecked or marooned on a desert island."

These sort of thoughts occupied his mind till he fell fast asleep. Having had a long walk the previous day, he was more tired than usual, and did not once wake during the whole night. The rays of the rising sun glaring into his eyes aroused him, and he sprang to his feet, feeling rather stiff and somewhat chilled, for the night had been cold. He climbed to the top of a sand-hill, that he might take a wider survey. Scarcely had he reached it than he observed a boat approaching the shore. Putting down his gun and knapsack, he took out his telescope, and that he might steady it, stretched himself on the side of the sand-hill. Having adjusted the focus, he directed it towards the boat. She came nearer and nearer. He saw that she contained several people, who seemed to have the intention of landing.

"I shall now be able to escape from this," he thought.

As the boat approached he could clearly distinguish the features of those in her. He could not be mistaken; three were ladies—the Vrouw Van Arent and her two daughters; three were gentlemen—Mynheer Van Arent, Mynheer Bunckum, and a stranger. They helped the ladies out of the boat, and then all six walked along the beach. The stranger offered his arm to the fair Isabelle, which she took with evident willingness. Mynheer Bunckum walked on with Vrouw Margaret, and the old couple followed.

"No, I cannot join them. I cannot so demean myself as to ask for a passage to the shore," muttered the Count. "I only hope that they will not discover me. I shall certainly not discover myself, if I can help it."

If curiosity had brought the party to the island, they were soon satisfied, for in a short time they re-embarked, and the Count had lost his chance of escaping for that time.

"It is better that it should be so," he said. "I should only have had to answer disagreeable questions, and perhaps have subjected myself to further indignities."

Hunger now compelled him to seek for food, and loading his gun, he looked out for a bird which might come within range, but the birds all kept at a wary distance. He observed, further to the south, that the island was very much lower, and that the birds frequented it in greater numbers; he accordingly bent his steps in that direction. It appeared level, and, as far as he could judge, easy to walk over. On reaching it, however, he found that it was sprinkled with so many shallow pools that he would speedily wet his boots through, therefore, sitting down on the first dry spot he came to, he pulled them off and hung them over his shoulders.

"Come, I feel something like a sportsman now," he said to himself.

Immediately afterwards a duck came quacking by within range. He fired, and, to his infinite satisfaction, brought it to the ground. He rushed eagerly forward to secure his prize, and although it went fluttering on for some distance, he succeeded in catching it, and, wringing its neck, hung it behind him.

"I need no longer fear dying of starvation, even although I may have to spend a day or two on this desert spot," he said to himself.

To his delight he brought down, before long, another duck, and was now thinking of returning to the higher ground, when he saw a boat passing near the further end of the low part of the island. He rushed forward to make a signal, hoping to attract the attention of those on board, but by the time he had got to the point to which he was directing his steps, the boat was at such a distance that his signals could not be seen. On and on he went; the sea-fowl came shrieking and quacking round him, when, to his dismay, he observed that dark clouds were gathering in the sky, threatening a storm of no gentle nature.

"This sort of work is all very well in fine weather, but I have no fancy to be exposed to drenching rain and howling wind," he said to himself. "I must get back, at all events, to the higher ground."

He had got so far from it, that this was no easy matter. Before he had walked for many minutes, down came the rain like a sheet of water, driven against him by the fierce wind.

He had now good reason to be seriously alarmed. The water in the pools, before scarcely up to his ankles, now reached almost to his knees. "Can the dykes have been burst through?" he thought. "If so, my fate is sealed—not only mine, but that of numbers of the inhabitants of the surrounding district." From the rapid way in which the surface of the Meer rose he felt convinced that this must be the case. Still the love of life compelled him to try and save himself, and he did not despair; although, as far as he could see, no means of making his escape were likely to present themselves.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

As he was hurrying on along the shore, he saw what looked to him like a wheelbarrow, with a heap of gourds or inflated skins, or some other roundish objects, though he could scarcely at the distance distinguish what they were. He reached the spot. "Come, at all events, if the waters rise, as I fear they will, these things will enable me to construct a raft on which I may manage to float on the troubled waters," he said to himself.

Lashing them together, he took his seat on the top of this curiously constructed raft. Scarcely had he done so, when the waters came rushing over the island, and carried him and his raft far away as they swept onward in their course. On and on he went, his very natural fear being that he should be carried into the Zuyder Zee; he soon, however, came in sight of land raised above the waters, on which he could distinguish cottages and other buildings.

"Well, this is a new style of navigation, but I ought to be thankful that I have got something to keep me above water," he said to himself.

He of course, as he glided on, was looking about in all directions, and he now caught sight in the distance of what he hoped was a boat. Again and again he cast his eager gaze at the object. Yes, it was a boat, and a man was in her; he waved his hat and shouted. As he approached, the Count looked at him; yes, he was, there could be no doubt about it, the one-eyed mariner, old Pieter, who shouted—

"Hold on, Mynheer! hold on! and I will soon be up to you."

"What, don't you know me?" asked the Count, as Pieter got near.

"Bless me, of course I do; and glad I am to have come to take you on board, or you might have been carried away into the Zuyder Zee, or somewhere else, for aught I can tell. When I saw you on board Captain Jan Dunck's vessel, I tried to get near enough to warn you that you must beware of him, as I felt sure that he would play you some scurvy trick or other. He has been going on from bad to worse, all owing to the oceans of schiedam he has poured down that ugly mouth of his."

This was said when the Count was comfortably seated in the stern of Pieter's boat. There was another person on board whom the Count recognised as the small ship's boy, who had long been Pieter's faithful companion. He nodded and smiled his recognition, and seemed highly delighted at again meeting with the Count.

"And now where shall we go?" asked Pieter.

"To the nearest shore where I can obtain food and shelter, and change my wet garments," answered the Count.

"Well, you do look dampish," observed Pieter.

"Damp! I have been wet to the skin for these hours past, and almost starved to death in the bargain," said the Count.

"Then I will lose no time in taking you to Meppel, or any other place we can most easily reach." And bending his back to the oars, the one-eyed mariner pulled away.

"'One good turn deserves another,' as the old saying is," observed Pieter, for he wanted to say something to keep up the Count's spirits. "You saved my life and gave me this boat, and now I have the satisfaction of saving yours."

"You are an honest fellow, Pieter, and as I prize honest men, of whom I have not discovered as many as I desire in the world, I should be glad if you and the small ship's boy will accompany me, and I will endeavour to obtain some post which I consider suited to your merits." Old Pieter gladly accepted the Count's offer, and it did not make him pull the less vigorously. All night long they rowed on, till they arrived at a part of the country which the flood had not reached. Here Pieter took the Count to the house of a farmer to whom the honest boatman was well known, having been on various occasions employed by him. The good farmer treated the Count with the utmost hospitality and kindness. It was some days, however, before the Count had sufficiently recovered to be once more himself, and able to extend his walks beyond the precincts of the farm. He had gone one day to some distance, when he saw a large and picturesque house rising amid an extensive shrubbery; an open gate invited him to enter. As he walked along he caught the sound of voices, and presently found himself in the presence of a party of gentlemen, seated round a table with books and papers before them. Conspicuous on one side was a large easel supporting a handsome picture. "Ah! this is something out of the way," thought the Count, and advancing he made a bow and introduced himself.

"You are welcome, noble Count, to our revels," said one of the gentlemen, who appeared to be the president. "But ours is a feast of reason and the flow of soul, and we are met here to discuss works of art, to hear read the practical effusions of our members, and to enjoy the society of men of intellect and erudition."

"A very praiseworthy and satisfactory mode of passing time, and I am fortunate in having fallen into such good company," remarked the Count.

The various members of the society individually welcomed him. A poet had just read some verses he had composed, which were received with thundering applause, one of the excellent rules of the society being that every one was to praise the works of the rest. The artist now exhibited his paintings; when the others had admired them to their fill, the Count looked at them through his spectacles, and if he did make a mistake, and suppose that a horse was a cow, or a sheep a pig, he wisely kept his opinion to himself, merely exclaiming: "Beautiful! how true to nature. What exquisite colouring; what elegant outlines! yet all are equalled by the composition." As no one asked him to point out the individual excellencies of which he spoke, he was looked upon as a first-rate judge of art.

"Now, gentlemen, as our friend Scrubzen has not been able to-day to complete his grand picture, I am deputed to invite you to inspect it to-morrow, when it will be in a more forward state. We shall, I hope, be favoured by your presence, Count Funnibos?"

"By all means," answered the Count, who was highly pleased with the society into which he had fallen; and he parted from them to return to the house of his hospitable entertainer. The next morning he set out to repair to the house of which the president had given him the address.

"Several of Scrubzen's admirers have already arrived," said the president, whom he met at the door; "and with them a distinguished foreigner."

As the Count and the president entered, they saw at the further end of the room a large picture on an easel representing a coast scene. On one side stood the artist explaining the details of his painting; a number of ladies and gentlemen were gazing at it with admiring glances; but one figure especially attracted the attention of the Count. It was, there could be no doubt about it, Baron Stilkin, whom he thought had long since reached Amsterdam, or had returned to his family mansion. Yes, it was the Baron, not decreased in rotund proportions since they parted. "Grand, very grand!" he exclaimed in sonorous tones, approaching the picture. "It reminds me forcibly of the best of Claude's productions; exquisite colouring!"

"And what is your opinion, Count Funnibos?" asked the President.

"He has grown wonderfully fat," answered the Count, who was thinking of the Baron. "I fear that no carriage can be found strong enough to take him home."

"I beg your pardon, Count, I was speaking of the picture," remarked the President. The Baron, however, had heard the Count's voice; turning round, he opened his arms to give him a friendly embrace.

"What, my dear Count! Is it you, yourself?"

"I think you ran away and left me to my mysterious fate," said the Count, with a slight degree of stiffness. "I conclude that you did not receive my letter requesting you to meet me at Amsterdam, and stating the reasons for my not rejoining you sooner; however, I am very glad to see you again."

"No, indeed, I received no letter," answered the Baron. "Had I done so, it would have saved me a world of anxiety."

"We must remember that we are in the presence of strangers," said the Count. "Our friend here desired to know my opinion of that magnificent picture. I may add that it surpasses my utmost expectations."

His opinion highly pleased the artist as well as the spectators, who were delighted to find their countryman's production so highly praised by two distinguished foreigners.

"And now, Count," said the Baron, as they walked away arm in arm, "I am compelled to return home. My son, the hope of my house, is about to marry a lady whose magnificent fortune will retrieve the fallen fortunes of our family. Will you accompany me?"

"By all manner of means," answered the Count. "I have met with sufficient adventures, or rather misadventures, to satisfy me for the rest of my life. I have seen a large portion of Holland, if not the whole of it, and I am satisfied that it is as well worth seeing as any country in the world."

"Your decision gives me infinite satisfaction," answered the Baron. "We will go back to-morrow, and I hope that you will be present at the wedding of my beloved son. I would rather he married the lady himself, though she is of an age which might have been considered suitable to me."

The Count and the Baron travelled back, accompanied by Pieter and the small ship's boy, at a far greater speed than that at which they had performed their outward journey. The Count was greatly relieved that his castle and estates had not run away during his absence, although Johanna Klack, at the very hour of his arrival, gave him notice that she must give up his service.

"To-morrow is the day fixed for my dear son's wedding," said the Baron, who had called on the Count. "You will, I trust, honour him and me by your presence, and that of your household."

"By all means," said the Count. "I will come myself, and bring one-eyed Pieter and the small ship's boy. It will be a novel and interesting spectacle to them."

The Count and his attendants arrived. The happy bridegroom appeared dressed in the height of fashion, the hour for the nuptial party to set out had struck.

"I must go in and bring forth the bride," he said; and he soon reappeared with a female, holding a large bouquet in her hand. She wore a wreath of roses and a white veil over her head; her neck was long, so was her nose; her figure was the reverse of stout, but that in a youthful female is to be admired.

"Is that a mop-stick with clothes hung on it?" whispered the small ship's boy, as he gazed at the future Baroness.

"My dear Baron," said the Count, after he had made a profound bow to the lady, "how did your son manage to make up his mind?"

"I made it up for him," answered the Baron. "He is a dutiful son, and does whatever I tell him. Suppose we change the subject, and when the nuptials are over, what do you say to setting out again on our travels? I shall be as ready as before to keep the accounts, and I hope to put a fair share into the common fund."

"I will think about it," said the Count. "At present, I have had travelling enough to satisfy me for some time to come; and as Johanna Klack has left my service, I do not know into whose hands I can satisfactorily leave the charge of my castle and estates during my absence."

THE END.