rom what
he said, that he had, in fact, not been thinking at all of what he was
saying.

"Well, you will have plenty of time to think it over when you are
sitting in the county jail."

The Leather-bell begged and prayed that he might not be sent there,
rather shove him in the stocks alongside Hamza. He admitted that he
deserved it; but if they liked to give him twenty or thirty blows with a
stick instead, he would take it kindly of them. He had meant no harm,
and he would never spread any more such rumours.

Meanwhile, no one had remarked that the tap-room had gradually been
filling with silent, savage-looking forms, one of whom, while listening
attentively to the conversation, began sweeping the suspicious-looking
powder into the palm of his hand.

Mr. Martin Csicseri was so far moved by the piteous lamentations of the
Leather-bell as to promise not to cast him into irons and send him to
the county jail as a fomenter of sedition.

"But you shall, at any rate, sit in the stocks till morning, my friend!"
added he. "Hie, you sworn jurymen, come forward and convey him thither."

"Nay, not that man!" cried a voice from the crowd, and the magistrate
beheld Thomas Bodza advancing towards him--by the side of the long
table.

"Whom then?" cried he.

"Whom but yourself!" exclaimed Numa Pompilius, accompanying his words
with the gesture of a Roman Senator.

For the moment it occurred to the magistrate that the worthy rector who
was not, as a rule, addicted to strong drink, had actually, for once,
taken more of the noble juice of the grape than was quite good for him,
so he simply laughed at him. All the more astonished, therefore, was he
when, at a sign from the master, two strange men rushed upon him and
seized his hands fast.

He had never seen their faces before, they were men who did not belong
to the village.

"What's the meaning of this, eh?" he thundered, giving one of them a
rattling box on the ear and knocking the other down. It was of no use.
Ten at least instantly threw themselves upon him, seized his hands and
feet, threw him to the ground and bound him fast. One or two of his
acquaintances tried to defend him but were thrust aside.

So long as the tussle lasted, Thomas Bodza stood upon the table with the
pose of a capitoline statue, whence he exclaimed in a dictatorial voice:

"It is now for me to command."

The pinioned magistrate continued to curse and swear, and threaten the
rioters till they sh