As soon as the Baron heard the first outcry he rang the bell loudly, and, as nobody answered, presently repeated the performance, with a precisely similar result. He had been just about to retire to rest, but finding that the {091}uproar increased, and that something serious had certainly happened, he desisted from the act of pulling off his boots, seized his sword, and rushed down into the large state-room, where he was presently joined by some eight or ten of the men-at-arms and two or three of the household servants. As soon as he found that the castle had been attacked, and was actually in possession of an enemy, the Baron gnashed his teeth with rage at having been thus caught unprepared; but, being a man of courage, despite his natural laziness, determined to sell his life dearly at the least. He and his few retainers had just time to barricade the door at one end of the room, and place the large library-table and some other articles of furniture in such a position as to give them a better chance of self-defence if attacked by numbers, when the doors at the other end of the room were thrown violently open, and a crowd of peasants rushed in, yelling and bawling in loud and discordant tones as they advanced towards the master of the castle. It was at this moment that the old blood of the Bandelboots showed itself to advantage. The Baron displayed no signs of fear, but, drawing himself up to his full height (which, being barely four feet six inches, was of itself not imposing), and violently stamping his foot upon the floor, he thus addressed the intruders:-- “How now, varlets! Whence and for what object come ye here? How do ye dare, ye scum of the earth, to enter your Baron’s castle and beard a Bandelboots in his lair?” Then stepped there forth a tattered, ragged, famished-looking man, well known in those parts by the name of Crazy Timothy; his eyes were wild and staring, his dress {092}torn, and his whole appearance seemed amply to justify his nickname. [Illustration: 105] “We want our rights!” he cried in a loud voice. “What is a Bandelboots to us more than anybody else? We are starving, whilst you and your vile Baroness revel in plenty. Give us our rights--these are the days when the poor are as good as the rich! No more starvation for the poor peasant! Give us our rights!” And thereupon the whole crew took up the chorus. “Our rights! our rights!--give us our rights!” and made as though they would advance upon the old Baron. The latter quailed not for a moment, but, curling his lips scornfully, thus made reply:--