The Hungarian brigand was something of a popular hero, esteemed for his generosity and chivalry. He was ready for any dangerous and daring deed, inspired rather by a thirst for adventure than by acquisitiveness or the savage instincts of murder and pillage. Strange stories are told to their credit. One of them, who had been condemned to death and was being escorted to the gallows by a pandour, or local policeman, never forgot that he had been regaled with a good dinner and afterward allowed to escape. Three months later the pandour fell into the brigand’s hands, and was treated to a banquet in return and then set free. On another occasion, a band of a dozen brigands took refuge in a glass manufactory on the borders of Lake Balaton, where they stood siege for three hours by a strong party of pandours. Then they made a temporary truce, invited their assailants to come in and drink, and after a carouse together, expelled them and renewed the fight, in which they were worsted and obliged to surrender. There were various classes of brigands; some of them top-sawyers who flew at the highest game, others more or less inoffensive and commonly known as “poor fellows,” the _Szegény Legény_, a name they had invented for themselves. These last were mostly conscripts who could not tolerate military discipline and had deserted from the army; they had not dared to return home, but had taken refuge in forest or steppe, where they lurked in concealment, issuing forth only to steal food, seizing a sheep or a lamb from the first flock they might encounter. The “poor companion” was not exactly a brigand, only a tramp or vagabond who consorted with shepherds and, keeping up an outwardly respectable appearance, entered the villages to join in the dances and festivities. They were most formidable in parts of the country where they were numerous enough to use menace in demanding hospitality. They formed themselves into bands of twenty or thirty and broke into isolated houses, armed with bludgeons, or by using threats induced the proprietors to pay them blackmail. Once a nobleman met a “poor fellow” in the open who had escaped from gaol, and threatened to send him back there if he was caught stealing sheep. “If you will give me one every year,” said the vagabond, “I will lay my hands upon no more of your sheep.” It is not uncommon for the “poor companion” to reform, marry and settle down into an industrious and well-conducted servant. They have been known to beg for gifts in kind--bacon and bread, for the support of their fellows in the woods.