The rest of the wagoners having timidly got out of the way, the merchant now summoned them all, and ordered them to put the horses to, saying to Anton, "We must leave this place.

Better the street pavement than this den of thieves." "You bleed!" cried Anton, in great distress, his eye falling on the merchant's arm.
"It must be a mere scratch; I can move the arm," was the prompt reply.
"Open the gate; out with the wagons.

Forward, my men! Anton, one of the wagoners will help you to bind the landlord." "And where shall we go ?" inquired Anton, in English.

"Are we to take these wagons into the bloodshed of the streets ?" "We have a passport, and will leave the town," answered the merchant, doggedly.
"They will not respect our passport," cried Anton in return, while he held a pistol at the head of the obstreperous landlord.
"If the worst come to the worst, there are other inns in this part of the town; any of them will be a better refuge." "But we have not the full complement of drivers, and some of our number are disaffected." "I will manage the disaffected," answered the merchant, sternly; "we have the full number of horses, we only want the men.

Those to whom the horses belong will remain with them.