The chief of the krakuse, or irregulars, now placed himself pathetically in the middle of the highway, and began a long oration, accompanied by much action, of which Anton understood very little, and his principal not all, but which, being interpreted by one of the wagoners, was found to signify that the leader much regretted his inability to serve the gentlemen, as he had received orders from the corps stationed behind him to keep watch over the wagon till the horses should arrive which were to take it to the nearest town.
The merchant merely shook his head, and replied, in a tone of quiet command, "That won't do.

The wagon is mine, and I must carry it off.

I can not wait the permission of your expected wagoners;" and, putting his hand into his pocket, he displayed to the owner of the blue coat half a dozen shining dollars, unseen by the rest.

"So much for you, and as much for your people." The leader looked at the dollars, scratched his head vehemently, and turned his cap round and round; the result of which was, that he at last arrived at the conclusion that, since things stood thus, the worthy gentleman might drive off his wagon.
The procession now triumphantly proceeded; the drivers seized the levers, and, by their united efforts, raised the fallen side, detached the fragments of the broken wheel, put on the new one, and harnessed the horses; and all this with the active assistance of some of the peasants, and the brotherly support of their commandant, who himself wielded a lever.

Then the horses were set off with a good will, and the wagon rolled on toward the bridge amid the loud acclamations of the krakuse, which were perhaps intended to drown a dissentient voice in his innermost breast.
"Go on with the wagon," said the merchant to Anton; and when the latter hesitated to leave his principal alone with the boors, the command was still more peremptorily repeated.