"Stand fast all!" sounded the deep voice of Arnold Biederman along their little body. "Where is Rudolph?--Save lives, but take none.--Why, how now, Arthur Philipson! stand fast, I say." "I cannot stand fast," said Arthur, who was in the act of leaving the ranks. "I must seek my father in the dungeons; they may be slaying him in this confusion while I stand idle here." "By our Lady of Einsiedlen, you say well," answered the Landamman; "that I should have forgot my noble guest! I will help thee to search for him, Arthur--the affray seems well-nigh ended.--Ho, there, Sir Banneret, worthy Adam Zimmerman, my good friend Nicholas Bonstetten, keep our men standing firm--Have nothing to do with this affray, but leave the men of Bâle to answer their own deeds. I return in a few minutes." So saying, he hurried after Arthur Philipson, whose recollection conducted him, with sufficient accuracy, to the head of the dungeon stairs. There they met an ill-looking man clad in a buff jerkin, who bore at his girdle a bunch of rusted keys, which intimated the nature of his calling. "Show me the prison of the English merchant," said Arthur Philipson, "or thou diest by my hand!" "Which of them desire you to see?" answered the official;--"the old man, or the young one?" "The old," said young Philipson. "His son has escaped thee." "Enter here then, gentlemen," said the jailer, undoing the spring-bolt of a heavy door. At the upper end of the apartment lay the man they came to seek for, who was instantly raised from the ground, and loaded with their embraces. "My dear father!"--"My worthy guest!" said his son and friend at the same moment, "how fares it with you?" "Well," answered the elder Philipson, "if you, my friend, and son, come, as I judge from your arms and countenance, as conquerors, and at liberty--ill, if you come to share my prison-house." "Have no fear of that," said the Landamman; "we have been in danger, but are remarkably delivered.--Your evil lair has benumbed you. Lean on me, my noble guest, and let me assist you to better quarters." Here he was interrupted by a heavy clash, as it seemed, of iron, and differing from the distant roar of the popular tumult, which they still heard from the open street, as men hear the deep voice of a remote and tempestuous ocean. "By St. Peter of the fetters!" said Arthur, who instantly discovered the cause of the sound, "the jailer has cast the door to the staple, or it has escaped his grasp. The spring-lock has closed upon us, and we cannot be liberated saving from the outside.--Ho, jailer dog! villain! open the door, or thou diest!" "He is probably out of hearing of your threats," said the elder Philipson, "and your cries avail you nothing. But are you sure the Swiss are in possession of the town?" "We are peaceful occupants of it," answered the Landamman, "though without a blow given on our side."