ee of his foremost assailants
at bay: he had been forced to yield one step and then another, and the
elbow of his sword arm was now right up against the wall. Pythagoras,
too, was equally closely pressed, and Diogenes had just sent an over
bold lout sprawling on the ground. The noise was deafening. Every one
was shouting, many were screaming or groaning. The town guard, realizing
at last that a tumult of more than usual consequence was going on in
some portion of the city, had decided to go and interfere; their slow
and weighty steps and the clang of their halberds could be heard from
over the Grootemarkt during the rare moments when shouts and clamour
subsided for a few seconds only to be upraised again with redoubled
power.

Then suddenly cries of "Help!" were raised from the further end of Dam
Straat, there where it debouches on the bank of the Spaarne. It was a
woman's voice that raised the cry, but men answered it with calls for
the guard. The tumult in front of the postern gate now reached its
climax, for the pressure from behind had become terrible, and men and
women were being knocked down and trampled on. It seemed as if the
narrow street could not hold another human soul, and yet apparently more
and more were trying to squeeze into the restricted space. The trampled,
frozen snow had become as slippery as a sheet of glass, and if the guard
with their wonted ponderous clumsiness charged into the crowd with
halberds now, then Heaven help the weak who could not elbow a way out
for themselves; they would be sure to be trampled under foot.

Every one knew that on such occasions many a corpse littered the roads
when finally the crowd disappeared. Those of sober sense realized all
this, but they were but small units in this multitude heated with its
own rage, and intoxicated with the first hope of victory. The three
strangers who, bare-headed, still held their ground with their backs to
the wall were obviously getting exhausted. But a little more
determination--five minutes respite before the arrival of the guard, a
few more stones skilfully hurled and the Papists, Spaniards or
Spies--whatever they were--would have paid dearly for their impudent
interference.

"Papists, have ye had enough?" yelled the crowd in chorus as a stone
well thrown hit the sword arm of the tallest of the three men--he whose
mocking voice had never ceased its incessant chatter.

"Not nearly enough," he replied loudly, as he quietly transf