u talk of fear, you shall go with us, and see who's afraid!"
cried the formidable blaster, and in a thundering voice, he advanced
towards Morok.

A number of voices joined in with, "Who says the Wolves are afraid of the
Devourers?"

"It would be the first time!"

"Battle! battle! and make an end of it!"

"We are tired of all this. Why should we be so miserable, and they so
well off?"

"They have said that quarrymen are brutes, only fit to torn wheels in a
shaft, like dogs to turn spits," cried an emissary of Baron Tripeaud's.

"And that the Devourers would make themselves caps with wolf-skin," added
another.

"Neither they nor their wives ever go to mass. They are pagans and dogs!"
cried an emissary of the preaching abbe.

"The men might keep their Sunday as they pleased; but their wives not to
go to mass!--it is abominable.

"And, therefore, the curate has said that their factory, because of its
abominations, might bring down the cholera to the country."

"True? he said that in his sermon."

"Our wives heard it."

"Yes, yes; down with the Devourers, who want to bring the cholera on the
country!"

"Hooray, for a fight!" cried the crowd in chorus.

"To the factory, my brave Wolves!" cried Morok, with the voice of a
Stentor; "on to the factory!"

"Yes! to the factory! to the factory!" repeated the crowd, with furious
stamping; for, little by little, all who could force their way into the
room, or up the stairs, had there collected together.

These furious cries recalling Jacques for a moment to his senses, he
whispered to Morok: "It is slaughter you would provoke? I wash my hands
of it."

"We shall have time to let them know at the factory. We can give these
fellows the slip on the road," answered Morok. Then he cried aloud,
addressing the host, who was terrified at this disorder: "Brandy!--let us
drink to the health of the brave Wolves! I will stand treat." He threw
some money to the host, who disappeared, and soon returned with several
bottles of brandy, and some glasses.

"What! glasses?" cried Morok. "Do jolly companions, like we are, drink
out of glasses?" So saying, he forced out one of the corks, raised the
neck of the bottle to his lips, and, having drunk a deep draught, passed
it to the gigantic quarryman.

"That's the thing!" said the latter. "Here's in honor of the treat!--None
but a sneak will refuse, for this stuff will sharpen the Wolves' teeth!"

"Here's to your health, mates!" sa