upon the little seat behind the sleigh, which was then led into line by
a soldier servant.

"Where is the course, Senor?" Lysbeth asked, hoping that it would be a
short one.

But in this she was to be disappointed, for he answered:

"Up to the little Quarkel Mere, round the island in the middle of it,
and back to this spot, something over a league in all. Now, Senora,
speak to me no more at present, but hold fast and have no fear, for at
least I drive well, and my horse is sure-footed and roughed for ice.
This is a race that I would give a hundred gold pieces to win, since
your countrymen, who contend against me, have sworn that I shall lose
it, and I tell you at once, Senora, that grey horse will press me hard."

Following the direction of his glance, Lysbeth's eye lit upon the next
sledge. It was small, fashioned and painted to resemble a grey badger,
that silent, stubborn, and, if molested, savage brute, which will not
loose its grip until the head is hacked from off its body. The horse,
which matched it well in colour, was of Flemish breed; rather a
raw-boned animal, with strong quarters and an ugly head, but renowned in
Leyden for its courage and staying power. What interested Lysbeth most,
however, was to discover that the charioteer was none other than Pieter
van de Werff, though now when she thought of it, she remembered he
had told her that his sledge was named the Badger. In his choice of
passenger she noted, too, not without a smile, that he showed his
cautious character, disdainful of any immediate glory, so long as the
end in view could be attained. For there in the sleigh sat no fine young
lady, decked out in brave attire, who might be supposed to look at him