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 suffoc