"I agree," said the leader of the helmeted men. He then, with two hands, removed his helmet. A gasp escaped me, and several of the other girls, too, for, on theforehead of the leader, fixed there, presumably this morning, was the image of a black dagger. It wassuch a thing, itseemed, that these men had placed on their foreheads this morning. The leader of the black- tunicked men now handed his helmet to one of the others. He also drew his dagger. "Bring the sack forward," he said to the fellow with the sack. It was brought forward, and opened.

"He is chained!" said the pit master.

The peasant looked out, as he often did, seeming to see nothing.

He called Gito turned his face away.

"You have played a clever game of double Kaissa," said the leader ofthe black-tunicked men,"leading us to believe, as though falsely, this was he whom we seek, when it was in truth he, but the game has been penetrated."
"This is not he whom you seek!" said the pit master.

"And whom do we seek?" asked the leader of the black-tunicked men.

The pit master was silent.

"He whom we seek surely could not be confessedly in Treve," laughed theleader of the black- tunicked men.
"That is not he," said the pit master.

"Then it will not matter that he is killed," said the leader of the black-tunicked men.The lieutenant and several of the others with them laughed. It was the only time I had heard them laugh.
I saw the hand of the pit master steal toward his tunic.

"Someone is coming," said one of the men outside the door. The pit master drew his hand quickly away from his tunic. The figure of the officer of Treve appeared in the doorway, he whom I knew well, and he who had, in the manner of these men, known me well, and as a slave.

"We have found he whom we seek," said the leader, "and we will brook no interference."

"I do not come to offer you any," said the officer. "Your papers are in order."

"Where have you been?" asked the pit master.

"I have set guards at all exits to the city," he said.
"For what purpose?" asked the leader of the strangers.

"To prevent the possible escape or improper removal of a prisoner," he said.

"You take great pains to guard the honor of your keeping," said the pitmaster.

"Yes, and of yours," he said.

"I have not betrayed my trust," said the pit master.

"And I am here to see that you do not," said the officer.

"It seems we have different senses of honor," said the pit master.

"Honor has many voices, and many songs," said the officer.

"It would seem so," said the pit master.

"He does not even know what we will do with him," said the leader ofthe black-tunicked men.
"Your papers are for transfer, for extradition," said the pit master, "only that."

"They do not specify that the prisoner is to be removed alive, or inhis entirety," said the leader.
"I am not fond of those of the black caste," said the officer.

"Nor we of those of the scarlet caste," said the leader.

"At least we have the common sense to go armed," said the lieutenant.

"You do not share our Home Stone," said the pit master.

"You should not be armed in our city."

"We have the authorization of the administration," said the leader of the black-tunicked men.
"Who would disarm us?" asked the lieutenant.

"Stand back," said the leader of the black-tunicked men.

"I am reluctant to permit this," said the officer of Treve. "It is one
thing, in the honor of a keeping, your papers in order, to surrender a prisoner. It is another to see this done within ourwalls. I fear lest the Home Stone be stained."
"Is it your intention to interfere?" inquired the leader of the black-tunicked men.

"It does not seem that I could," said the officer. "Such would seem to constitute a betrayal of my post."
"It would, clearly," the leader of the strangers assured him. The leader of the strangers then returned his attention to the peasant.

"Is it time for the planting?" asked the peasant.

"Perhaps you would have us put more chains on him first?" said the pit master, bitterly.

"That will not be necessary," said the leader of the black-tunickedmen.

"You!" cried the pit master, addressing himself to the fellow called
Gito. "He is not the one you know. Tell the captain!"

"Where is my friend Gito?" asked the peasant.

"Here," said Gito, from back among those in the black tunics.

"Are you well, Gito?" asked the peasant.

"Yes," said Gito.

"I am pleased to hear this," said the peasant, approvingly, distantly.
"There is no doubt about it," said the lieutenant. "He remembers him. He knows him."
"He should," said the leader of the strangers. "He once, on a hunting expedition, saved Gito from brigands who were torturing him. He took him, half dead, burned, defaced, into his own house, showered him with gifts, improved his fortunes, treated him as akinsman. He loved few and trusted few, as he loved and trusted Gito."
Gito turned away.

"It is he, is it not?" said the lieutenant.

Gito covered his face with his hands.

"No!" said the pit master.

The lieutenant smiled.

The leader of the black-tunicked men then motioned the fellow with the sack to advance.
"No!" said the pit master, thrusting his own body between the knife and the peasant.
The leader of the black-tunicked men looked to the officer of Treve. "Order this obtuse brute to stand aside," he said.

"Stand aside," said the officer of Treve.

"No!" said the pit master.

"He is armed!" said the lieutenant.

The pit master, from within his tunic, had drawn forth the stilettowhich I had seen yesterday in his quarters, that which he had concealed beneath papers.

The leader of the black-tunicked men stepped back, carefully, slowly, not taking his eyes from the pit master. He made no quick moves. When he was a few feet back he stopped. He then transferred the dagger he carried to his left hand and drew his sword with his right. It left the sheath almost soundlessly. It was a typical blade of this world, small and wicked. Such blades are favored by those who prefer to work close to their men. They are also designed in such a way that they may, by a skillful swordsman, in virtue of their lightness, speed and flexibility, be worked within the guard of longer, heavier weapons. Their design is such, in short, as to overreach shorter weapons and yet, in virtue of the weights involved, penetrate the defenses of less wieldy blades. The lieutenant had also drawn his weapon.

"Please stand aside," invited the leader of the strangers. "Stand aside!" said the officer of Treve. "No!" said the pit master. Fina, amongst us, kneeling in the damp straw, bound, moaned. The pit
master did not glance at her. His eyes were on the leader of the strangers.

"Bowmen," said the leader of the black-tunicked men. Two black tunicked, helmeted fellows who had their bows set, quarrels ready within the guides, stepped forward.
"No!" screamed Fina.

"Do not lift your bows," said the officer of Treve.

"He is armed!" said the lieutenant.

From within his robes the officer had drawn forth a blade. It had apparently been slung beneath his left arm. It had not been sheathed.

"The first man to lift a bow dies," said the officer of Treve.

"Why do you interfere?" inquired the leader of the strangers.
"It will take only a moment to kill them both," said the lieutenant.

"You are a captain," said the leader of the strangers to the officer of Treve. "You hold rank in this city. Why would you defend this monster?"
"We share a Home Stone," said the officer.

"Is it time for the planting?" inquired the peasant.

"Yes!" suddenly cried the pit master, over his shoulder. "It is time for the planting!"

"You have been kind to me," said the peasant. "But I must now leave. It is time for the planting."

"You may not leave," said the pit master, speaking to the giant behind him, not taking hiseyes from the leader of the strangers.

"I must," said the peasant, simply.
"They will not let you!" said the pit master. "These men will not let you!"

"I am sorry," said the peasant. "I must go."

"You cannot!" cried the pit master. "They will not let you!"

"Not let me?" said the peasant, dully, uncomprehendingly.

"No, they will not let you!" said the pit master.

"Look," said the lieutenant, amused. "He is getting up."

There was laughter from the helmeted men. The peasant now stood. He looked down at the chains, from one side to the other, on his wrists, and ankles. He pulled at them a little, not seeming to comprehend the impediment they imposed upon him.

"Free yourself!" said the lieutenant. The peasant pulled against the chain on his left wrist. The links ofthe chain went straight, lifting the ring from the wall. He similarly tried the chain on this right wrist. There was laughter from the men present.

"They mock you! They laugh at you! They will not let you do the planting!" said the pit master, not looking back.
"They are not my friends?" asked the peasant.

"No!" said the pit master. "They are not your friends! They would stop you from the planting."
"I must do the planting," he said.

"They will not let you!" cried the pit master. Suddenly a strange, ugly, total, eerie transformation seemed to come over the gigantic body of the peasant.

"Free yourself!" taunted another man.
"He is growing angry," said another.

Suddenly the veins in the forehead of the giant seemed to swell with blood, like ropes under the skin. His eyes seemed suddenly inhuman, inflamed like those of a mad animal. The men grew silent, uneasy. He threw himself again and again against the chains. His wrists bled. He uttered a low, terrible sound, not like anything even an animal might manage. More likesomething that might have sprung from the depths of the earth, a rumbling, as of a volcano.

There was an uneasy laugh from one of the helmeted men. The girls, kneeling in the straw, bound, neglected, to the side, I among them, were tense. We shrank backa little. Our knees moved in the straw. It seemed we might be in the presence of a force of nature. He strained against the chains, uttering terrible sounds, like no human.

"Ai," said a man, watching.

Then it was suddenly, oddly, as though he grew in stature, in power, and strength. Doubtless it was an optical illusion, given the confinement of the cell, his now being upright, not sitting, his pulsing to his full stature, then bending down, like abull, straining, muscles bulging, pulling outward. Then straightening up, then again bendingdown, again pullingforward.

"He will tear his limbs from his body," said a man.

But I did not think the peasant, that violent giant, that simple, outraged behemoth of a man,in his present state of mind, in his agitation, in the singleness ofhis purpose, in this ferocious,puissant concentration of all of his force, his power, against iron androck, was troubled by pain,or even capable of feeling it. Again and again the chains drew against the rings. It seemed that adraft beast of enormoussize could have exerted little more stress on that metal. Some of the men then laughed.

But almost at the same time there was heard the slippage of a bolt, andwe saw, on his left, our right, as we looked upon him, the plate to which the ring was attached, jerk outward an inch.

"Ai," said a man, in awe.

The men were then silent. In the light I saw, on his right, our left. one of the links of chain stretch a little, bending. I do not know if others saw this; The links there could have been slipped apart, but the peasant took no note of this, rather he continued to force himself against the chain, the link bending more.

"I have never seen anything like this," said one of the black-tunicked men, in awe.
"He is amazingly strong," said another.

"The bolts are weak," said another.

"They have been filed from the other side," said another.

The peasant reached down and seized the chain on his right ankle with both his right and left hand. He then crouched down and then began, slowly, to straighten his legs.

"He will break his legs," said a man. Suddenly the chain snapped from the ring.

"It was rusted in the dampness," said a man.

"We have seen enough of this," said the leader of the black-tunicked men.

"You know he cannot free himself," said the pit master. "You know he cannot do that!"
"Bowmen," said the leader of the strangers.

But the gaze of the bowmen seemed fixed, in awe, on the straining giant. Their bows, the quarrels set, were not elevated to fire, with a vibrating rattle ofcable, to the heart. I did not think they even heard their captain.

"Bowmen!" said the leader of the strangers. His cry shook the bowmen.

"Spare the pit master or die!" cried the officer of Treve.

"Hold your fire," said the leader of the strangers.

They had not, however, mindful of the proximity of the officer's blade, raised their weapons, either to the pit master, or to the officer. One could presumably manage to fire. The other, whichever it was to be,would presumably die. The lieutenant moved a little to his left.

"Remain where you are," cautioned the officer of Treve. He could be outflanked by a thrust from his right.

"You have one stroke, that is all," said the lieutenant.
"Remain where you are," said the officer of Treve.

The lieutenant stayed where he was. He himself had not been authorized to strike by his captain, and the single stroke which the officer might be expected to initiate might well be intended for him.

"You have no objection, I trust," said the leader of the strangers to the officer of Treve, "to the simple removal of your disobedient subordinate from the line of fire?"
"If he is unharmed," said the officer.
"Stand with me!" said the pit master.
"Stand aside," said the officer. "Their papers are in order. You know that as well as I. Be mindful of your post, its honor, and your duty."
"Honor has many voices, many songs," said the pit master.
"Get him out of the way," said the leader of the strangers.

We suddenly heard a second chain snap, that which had been on the left ankle of the giant. The end at the ring with the force of the suddenly parting metal struck down at the stone like a snake, jerking and rattling. It had even struck a spark from the stone. Several of the helmeted men, cautiously, began to approach the pit master. The officer of Treve stepped back.

"Stand aside," said he to the pit master.
"Stand with me," said the pit master.
"No," said the officer of Treve.

The peasant, his legs free, save for the shackles and a length of chainon each, now turned about and grasped, with both hands, the chain on his neck. He put one foot against the wall. He began to tear back on the chain.

One of the black-tunicked men lunged at the pit master. He cried out in pain, twisting, drawing back, his arm slashed. The pit master drew back his arm, but before he could bring it forward again, three of the black-tunicked men had hurled themselves upon him. Then others followed. The officer from Treve observed this, and did not observe the sign that was given by the leader of the black-tunicked men. Then, suddenly, he himself was seized by two of them. A third wrenched open his hand, his blade fell to the floor. Almost att he same time there was a snap of chain and the neck chain which was on the peasant dangled before him, from the ring on his collar, and he had turned about again, to face us, his eyes wild, saliva running at the side of his mouth. His hands were bloody. Blood, too, was on the chain. The pit master's grip on the stiletto was like iron. They could not pry it from his fingers. But six men held him, helplessly, to the side. The way was now cleared to the peasant.

"Kill him, kill him, kill him!" cried Gito, back by the door. "Do not wait! Kill him!"

In the commotion even those of the black tunics who had been in the corridor had entered the room. Indeed, some had set aside their bows, to assist in the subduing of the pit master. Two, however, remained at the door. I had noted the anguish with which some of my sisters in bondage had observed this. They could not run past the men. They would remain, as we, the rest of us, slave girls kneeling in a cell, bound, our disposition, ourlives, in the hands of men. And I am certain that they were as alarmed as I to be where we were. I think it required no great perception to understand that we beheld, unwilling though we might be, sensitive matters, matters which might prove delicate, matters which might deal, even, with states.

One of the girls sprang to her feet and ran toward the door, but she was caught there, and held for a moment, and then flung back, forcibly, cruelly, to the stones and straw. She lay there, her wrists bound tightly behind her back with simple, common cord, sobbing. And if she were to run, where would she go, nude and bound, in the depths? Would she not be stopped by the first gate? There would be no escape for her, neitherhere nor elsewhere, no more than for us. We were collared. We were branded. We were slave girls.

We feared, being where we were, seeing what we had seen. We feared the black-tunicked men. We feared that we might be disposed of. Perhaps it would be decided that we had seen too much. Yet we understood, surely, little, if anything, of what we had seen. How absurd, if for so little, not even comprehended, our throats might be cut! No wonder we were so miserable, so frightened

The peasant stood there now like a beast at bay. From the shackles on his left and right ankles there hung, their links on the stone, broken chains. Anotherchain dangled from the ringon the collar on his neck. A link had snapped, but the plate behind himon the wall, too, was half pulled out from the stone. His wrists were still shackled. He did not know that there was an opened link on the chain that held his right wrist. It might have been simply slipped from its joining link. But he did not know this. And the chain on his left wrist still went back to the metal plate, pulled out, though it was, an inch or so from the wall. It seemed the bolt behind the stone had drawn tight against the stone and it could not move further, not without pulling the very stone itself from the wall.

"Bowmen," said the leader of the strangers.

The two bowmen advanced. Then they stopped, and set, left feet forward, right feet back, crosswise, braced. The peasant hurled himself again against the chains which held him back. The bowmen were no more than a yard from the peasant. The only light in the cell was from the two lanterns, and the tiny lamps. There were several men about. We knelt back, and to the side. Again the peasant, bellowing, threw himself against the chains. We shrank back, frightened.

"He is strong," said a man. Again the peasant hurled himself against the chains.

"Kill him," cried Gito. "Kill him, quickly!"

"He is chained," the leader of the strangers reminded Gito.

"Kill him!" urged Gito.

"Prepare to fire," said theleader of the strangers.

The bows were lifted. Again the peasant threw himself against thechains. Save for the metal band, the bow, or spring, mounted crosswise,now drawn, and the cable, arched back, the devices, with their triggers and stocks, were not unlike stubby rifles. They were small enough to be concealed beneath a cloak.

"Kill him!"cried Gito.

Again the peasant threw himself against the chains. I saw the one link bend more.We heard part of the stone scrape outward in the wall.

"Kill him," cried Gito. "Kill him, quickly!"

"No!" cried the pit master. Again the peasant threw himself against the chains. There was asound of tortured metal, a scraping of stone. The entire block of stone in which the plate and ring was fixed on thepeasant's left, our right, had inched out.

"Kill him, kill him!" screamed Gito.
"Take aim," said the leader of the strangers quietly.

"No!" cried the pit master.

The two bowmen trained their weapons on the heart of the peasant. The officer of Treve stood quietly, angrily, to the side, restrained by two men. His blade, his fingers pried from the hilt, one by one, was at his feet. That mound of a human being which was the pit master struggled. Six men clung to him. Fina was sobbing. The leader of the strangers, stood to one side. He and the lieutenant, now that the pit master was restrained, had sheathed their blades.

"Do not kill him!" said the pit master, moving like a part of the earthbeneath those who clung to him.
"Kill him! Kill him quickly!" screamed Gito, from the back.

Again the peasant threw his weight against the chains. There was another sound of metal and rock.
The leader of the strangers smiled. He lifted his hand.

"No!" cried the pit master.

The two bowmen tensed, their fingers on the triggers, their quarrels aligned to the heart ofthe peasant. I saw the chains straighten, the rings straighten; the plate on our right, the peasant's left, out from the stone, and the very stone in which it was fastened, too, drawn an inch or more out from the wall, and the other chain, too, I saw, it still fastened to its ring and plate, these tight on the stone, but there, too, the stone itself, the heavy block of stone in which the bolts of the plate were set, was, like the other, with a scraping and a powder of mortar, a rumbling grating,another granular inch or more emergent from the wall.

Again the peasant lunged against his chains, and there was a squeal of metal and there was, as though reluctant, crying out, protesting, another tiny yielding, a grating of stone, another tiny movement, another tiny fearful slippage, of a ponderous block of stone.

"Do not kill him!" screamed the pit master.

"Shoot!" cried Gito. "Shoot!"

The hand of the leader of the strangers raised just a little, preparatory presumably to its sharp descent, doubtless to be consequent upon the issuance of a word of command. He smiled. The chains were tight, straight from the wall. The peasant seemed like a crazed animal, gigantic, leaning forward, straining, bulging with muscle and hate.

"Glory to the black caste," said the leader of the strangers.

"Glory to the black caste!" said the black-tunicked men.

The hand of the leader of the black-tunicked men lifted a bit more. Hislips parted, to utter the signal that would unleash the quarrels.

"Aargh!" cried one of the bowmen reeling back, his face a mass of blood within the helmet, the quarrel slashing into the wall to the right of the prisoner, gouging the wall, showering sparks and the other, too, was buffeted to the side by his fellow, his own quarrel spitting, too, to the side, to the peasant's right, striking the wall, bursting stone from it like a hammer, flashing sparks in the cell, then turning end over end, sideways, eccentrically, to our left.

The block of stone, broken from the wall, torn out of it, still fixed to the plate and bolts, and chain, had burst forth, showering mortar in the room. As it had left the wall it had, with all the violence of the forces imposed upon it, whipped to the peasant's right, striking the nearest bowman on the side of the head. It had split the helmet and, in the instant before it had split, the metal had been flattened, the skull crushed within. The lights were wild in the cell, the two lanterns being jerked back by those who held them, the light of the tiny lamps obscured by moving bodies Wild shadows moved about.

"Blades!" I heard. "Lanterns up!" A dozen blades must have left sheaths.

We screamed. We shrank back. We huddled together, back against the wall. We then saw, in the light of the swinging lanterns, in the light of the small lamps, the men drawn back, the peasant, standing where he had been, but now bent over, his eyes wild, like something that had tasted blood, a long-forgotten taste, but one which induced a wild intoxication. He was still held to the wall by the right wrist. I doubted that chain could hold him longer now. He jerked back the stone on the chain still clinging to his left wrist. Men leaped back, not to be caught in the trajectory of that jagged, ponderous weight. The one bowman had crawled to the side.

"Cut him down!" said the leader of the black-tunicked men.

A man advanced, but leaped back as the block of stone on its chain whirled again through the air. It might have been a meteor on a chain. The peasant gave another great cry and with his right arm he lunged against the chain that still held him. The weakened link,that which could have been slipped earlier, it having been opened, but that not known to him, now parted so that the chain was broken.

"He is free," said a man, in awe.
"The chains were tampered with," said another.

Even the pit master seemed in awe. He no longer struggled. Those who were with him seemed scarcely now to restrain him. The officer of Treve, too, seemed staggered by what he had seen. His sword, which had been pried from his hand, lay at his feet.

"He cannot escape," said the leader of the strangers, calmly. "Kill him."

The peasant, now that his hands were free from the wall, took, with both hands, the chain which was on his left wrist, that to which the block of stone was still bolted. He lifted the stone easily from the floor. It swung on the chain, about six inches from the floor. He was bent over. He was breathing heavily. None of the men cared to advance. Gito crept behind the men to our left, and crouched down, by the wall.

The peasant suddenly swung the great stone on its chain about his head in a wicked whirling circle. He stepped out a yard from the wall. The men drew back. Some went to the side. Then the peasant retreated to the wall. His eyes, wolflike, looked to the left and right He would not permit them behind him. If he should strike a man, of course,that might stop the stone, or even tangle the chain, providing the others with the opportunity they needed, blades ready, to close. But none cared, it seemed, to be the first to tread within the orbit of that fierce satellite, that primitive, improvised weapon.

You, you," said the leader of the strangers to two of his men. "Sheath your swords, set your bows."

The two men, protected behind their brethren, unslung their bows. Some such weapons are set by a windlass, but those these men carried were more swiftly prepared for fire. They could be drawn with two hands, the bow held down, a foot in the stirrup. It would take a moment, of course, to free the bow, to draw it, to set it, to extract a quarrel from the quiver, to arm it. The long bow, naturally, has a much greater rapidity of fire. This bow, on the other hand, once set, like a firearm, remains ready for fire. It is useful in cramped spaces, in close quarters, in room-to-room fighting. It is an alert weapon, responsive to the trigger; its opportunity need not be more prolonged than the movement of the target across a passageway; it is a patient weapon; it can wait quietly, motionlessly, for a long time, for its target to appear. The two new bowmen set their feet in the bow stirrup, grasping the cable with two hands, one on each side of the guide.

Suddenly, crying out, realizing somehow, in some dark part of that simple brain, in some instinctive fashion, that he had not a moment to spare, risking all, heedless of his back, swinging the stone about his head, the peasant, chains flying about his ankles, charged toward the bowmen. His action, as sudden as it was, took the black-tunicked men by surprise. They fell back before him. The one bowman, his foot locked in the stirrup, looked up only in time to see the great stone whipping toward him; the other was protected by his fellow who received the blow, but, he, too, his foot in the stirrup, fell awkwardly to the side. He cried out in pain.

"Blades! Close with him! Close with him!" cried the leader of the strangers.

But the stone on its chain, the peasant whirling with it, spun about and about. I saw flesh fly from the thigh of one of the men. He staggered back. Blood splashed on the man to the right of the officer of Treve, he holding his right arm. The sword lay still at the officer's feet. The pit master suddenly, again, began to struggle. The six men about him tightened their grip, clinging to him tenaciously.
They clung to him like dogs to a bull. He struggled to throw them from him. The bowman who had been struck lay to one side, his head awry, too far back, still in the helmet, half torn from the body. Swords darted at the peasant but none reached him, he protected in the whirling shield of chain and stone. And then the stone struck against the side of the portal and the stoneburst from the portal, a cubic foot of wall there broken from its place, but the stone, too, on the chain, shattered, splitting at the bolts, and fell in two halves away. The chain on his wrists flew about. That to which the ring and plate was attached, bolts still onthe plate, struck a fellow across the face, lashing him back. And then the peasant was back again, at bay, against the wall. We cried out, we sobbed with fear. Gito was hiding himself instraw to the left of the portal as one would enter.

"The stone is done now," said the leader of the black-tunicked men, himself now straightening up, lowering the sword he had held before his face, two hands on the hilt. "The chains are nothing."

The peasant was breathing heavily. The door was in front of him, but men with bladesblocked his passage.

"Four will advance," said the leader of the strangers. "You, and you, will engage," he said, to two of his men, near him, on the right side of the room, as one would enter it.

"And you, and you," said the lieutenant, to two of the men on his side of the room, the left, as one would enter. The peasant looked wildly about himself.

He could not defend himself, he substantially defenseless now, against these blades. The chain might be evaded, or it might be stopped or turned, or tangled, by a blade. Too, as he would move to defend himself on one side, the other would close.

"He is dead," said the leader of the strangers, quietly.

Suddenly the officer of Treve kicked the sword at his feet, that which had been earlier pried from his hand, toward the peasant. It slid across the stone. The peasant looked down at it.

"Position to advance," said the leader of the strangers. The four men formed, one ahead on each side.

"Pick it up!" said the officer of Treve.

The pit master, held by the men at him, looked to the officer of Treve, wildly, gratefully, elatedly.
The peasant bent down and picked up the blade. He looked at it, almost as if he did not understand such a thing. I supposed he may never have had such a thing in his hand before.
The four men prepared to advance looked to one another, and to their captain.

"You do not understand such a thing," said the leader of the strangers to the peasant. "You are of the Peasants. It is not for your caste. Your weapon is the greatstaff, perhaps the great bow. You are of the Peasants. You do not know that weapon. You are of the Peasants. Remember you are of the Peasants."

"Yes," said the giant before us. "I do not know this thing. I am of the Peasants."
"Advance," said the leader of the strangers to the four men.

I gasped.

The first darting stroke toward the peasant had been parried smartly. I had scarcely followed either the thrust or its turning. That single, sharp ringing of steel seemed to linger in the cell.

"Do you call this a weapon?" asked the peasant. "It is only a knife. Yet it is quick. It is very quick."

"Strike!" said the leader of the strangers.

Another man lunged forward and again the blow was turned, almost asthough one might blink an eye, by reflex.

"I do not know this thing," said the peasant, looking at the blade,curiously.
Another fellow thrust but this time the thrust was not merely parried. The attacker lay to the peasant's right, his knees drawn up. He coughed blood into the straw.
"But it is quick," said the peasant. "It is quick."

"Attack, attack!" cried the leader of the strangers.

Steel rang out by the wall of the cell. I think I heard blades cross seven or eight times. Black-tunicked men drew back. Another of their fellows lay in the straw.

"He is a master," said a man, in awe.

Suddenly the pit master, with a great cry, with a great surge of strength, like a moving mountain, like a pain-crazed, maddened bull, threw from him the black tunicked men who held him, as the mountain might have uprooted trees and tumbled boulders to the valley below, asthe bull, rearing up, tossing its head, might have shaken itself free of besetting dogs. At the same time the officer of Treve threw the two from him who had held him.

The pit master tore a lantern from the hand of a man and dashed it against the wall. Oil flamed for a moment, running on the wall He then, with one hand, smote lamps from the wall, tearing them away from their holders. The second lantern was seized by the officer of Treve and dashed to the floor. Flame flickered in the damp straw, then disappeared. The last lamp, to the left, as one would enter, was struck from its holder. I heard one ofthe girls cry out, scalded by the splashing oil. The flame did not take in the damp straw.

"Light! Light!" cried the leader of the strangers.

We heard a man cry out with pain. In a moment or two one of the lamps was found and lit. One of the black-tunicked men lay in the portal, his chest bright with blood.

"Where is the prisoner!" demanded the leader of the strangers.

"He is gone," said a man.

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