Part 32 (1/2)
”You won't. Very well, sir, I'll pay you out for this! What's your name?”
”Kovatsh Miksha, a n.o.bleman of St. Vilmosh. I will not go, even to please your G.o.d!”
”Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not know you! But who's this fellow?”
”That's my cousin, Andrash. He's a n.o.bleman, and he won't go!”
”Why, where the deuce are the peasants?”
”Shot, or run away!”
”The rascals!” cried the judge; ”the cowards! Never mind, I'll make them pay for it!”
”I beg your wors.h.i.+p's pardon,” interposed the inspector; ”but my opinion is that we had better go home. We have done our duty, and there are only fifteen men here. The rest are either dead or run away. We have no chance of success. When Viola finds out how few there are of us, and that we cannot watch the hut on all sides, he will make his way out into the forest.”
The justice was on the point of yielding, when Mr. Catspaw approached the group. He suggested another scheme. ”Put fire to the hut,” said he.
”They will find it too hot to hold them; they will come out; and when they do, you shoot them down.” His advice was eagerly adopted. The inspector was frantic with joy, and a Pandur was at once sent off to carry the scheme into effect. The men of St. Vilmosh and the Pandurs took their places in the thicket, ready to fire at the robbers; and Mr.
Skinner was so violent in expressing the pleasure he felt, that he swore twice as much as before.
The situation of the robbers was far worse than their a.s.sailants suspected. The shot, which the inspector had fired through the cutting, had pierced the broad chest of Ratz Andor. He lay on his back, groaning, and moving his limbs in a pool of blood. The butcher walked to and fro with alternate oaths and prayers, and cursing the day of his birth.
Viola was quiet and silent. He felt convinced that his hour had come, and he awaited death fearlessly. The thought of his family alone was a weight upon his heart. For a moment he thought of flight. There was a possibility of escape by breaking through the roof, and escaping from the back of the hut. But he looked at his old companion, who lay bleeding at his feet, and who had once saved his life. His resolution was taken. He could not leave that man in the hour of his agony.
Immediately afterwards he heard them prepare for another attack, and he awaited his fate with firmness and resignation.
”Fire at them!” said Ratz Andor, when he heard the noise outside, ”fire at them, to the last man!”
”We are short of bullets. There's plenty of powder, but no lead.” Ratz Andor drew a deep breath.
”A thousand devils! is there no shot?”
”No. There's a gun and two pistols loaded--that's all.”
”Give me a pistol!” whispered the robber, holding out his hand to Viola; and when his comrade, who understood the purport of the request, handed him the weapon, he clutched it with an eager hand, muttering--
”Let them come now! They won't take me alive, I warrant you!”
”I say!” whispered the butcher, pointing to Ratz Andor, ”is he dead?”
”No; don't you see him breathing?”
”But he'll die!--don't you think he'll die! I say, Viola, don't you think we'd better surrender? Perhaps they'll grant us a pardon.”
”A pardon? If they don't shoot us, I'll give you my word of honour they will hang us before to-morrow night.”
”I don't mean a full pardon,” whispered the wretch, as if choking with fear; ”not to pardon us so that we may go about; but perhaps they'll lock us up--say five years, ten years, I would not mind twenty years, and whip us every month, and make us starve and work--I would not mind it in the least, if they don't hang us. Don't you think, Viola, they would pardon me, if I were to beseech them--if I were to go down upon my knees, intreating them to spare my life. You see, Viola, I am so young.
I never killed anybody! I never hit any one to-night!”
”Poor fellow!” said Viola, as he gently disengaged his hand from the trembling grasp of his comrade, ”don't tell these things to me--tell your judges.--But what is this!” cried he, pointing to a corner of the hut--”what is that smoke?”
”The hut is on fire!”