most certainly shut up in a mad house. Regulate your conduct
accordingly."

CHAPTER XX

THE FIGHT FOR THE GOLD

Of late Mr. Gerzson Satrakovics had invented for himself a peculiar sort
of pastime.

He had renounced bear hounds and grey hounds and all other kinds of
dogs, he did not care a jot when partridge shooting began, but he hung
up his gun on a nail and began regularly visiting one after another the
session courts of the counties of Arad, Biehar and Temes, in all of
which he was a justice of the peace, and moving resolutions.

The object of these resolutions was to induce the three counties to
endeavour with their united strength, and in conjunction with the
Transylvanian counties of Hunyad, Feher and Zarand, to extirpate the
robber bands that had so long been terrorizing the whole district. He
compiled lists of the atrocities perpetrated in the various localities
and connected them all with the name of one particular robber, the
notorious "Fatia Negra." He produced convincing proofs of the existence
of a combination extending from the depths of the dungeons to the
summits of the mountains which was held together by the magic influence
of this one man and he left no stone unturned to bring him to book.

He, naturally, became quite a laughing stock for his pains, and his
acquaintances could not for the life of them understand what had come to
the man.

"Why, old fellow!" said Count Kengyelesy to him one day, after he had
been indulging in an unusually fiery philippic at Quarter Sessions,
"why, old fellow, what sort of venom have you swallowed that makes you
perorate so savagely against this worthy Fatia Negra. If anybody has
cause to complain against him it is I, for he relieved me of 1,000
ducats on the high road, and so cleverly did the rascal manage it, that
I cannot find it in my heart to bear him any ill-will. But what have you
got to do with him I should like to know? What is all this cock and bull
story you keep on spouting out concerning organized robber bands and
mysterious chieftains? Is it your ambition, my friend, to become public
prosecutor?"

"Yes, it is, and public prosecutor I will be, too. I want six counties
to place their armed constabulary at my beck and call, and if they do,
I'll wager that I'll so purify all these Alpine regions that the robbers
will not have a single lurking hole left."

"Rubbish! Don't make a fool of yourself. Besides, they say that Fatia
Negra has flown