A violent rush upon our hero, by the whole party, now ensued; but Twm eluded their eager attempts to grasp him, sprung upon the table before the bench, and, drawing a couple of pistols from his coat pockets, held one in each hand, and kept them all at bay, protesting that he would shoot the first who would advance an inch towards him. Loud was his laughter, as they all started back: but the great laugher, Prothero, now sat silently on the bench, alarmed for his safety, which he had thought to secure by giving him warning of his danger, in the feint of the proclaimed reward for his apprehension. As he stood in this manner, with extended arms, watchful eyes, and grasping the pointed pistols with a finger to each trigger, Powell of Brecon exclaimed, “Thou art a clever fellow, by Jove, Twm! very clever for a Cardy; but wert thou with us, the quick-witted sons of Brecon, thou wouldest soon find thyself overmatched and outwitted too. I dare thee to enter Brecon, to trust thy wit—come there, and welcome, and thou shalt stand harmless for me, in the affair of the grey horse.” Twm smiled, and nodded, in token of having accepted his challenge. By this time Evans of Tregaron, with some of his followers, got behind him, and clung to his right arm, but with one violent effort Twm shook them away, as the mighty bull throws off the yelping curs that dare attack him. Then, with a single leap, he sprung from the table into the crowded court, where a lane was formed for him, and rushed out at the door unimpeded, and pursued by his accusers. They soon lost sight of him among the moving multitude, some of whom dispersed from fear of accidents, while others followed him as spectators. To the great astonishment of his pursuers, they next caught a view of him mounted on that grand subject of contention, the grey horse. He took the route to Ystrad Fîn, followed by them all, including several constables in the employ of Evans of Tregaron, and many disinterested people from the fair. Loud were the shouts of the numerous riders; loud the tramp of galloping horses; and wild the disorder and terror created, as Twm at different intervals turned on his pursuers, and fired his pistols. This caused a powerful retrograde movement among them, by which the foremost horses fell back on those behind them, unhorsing some, who lay groaning and crying on the ground, and frightening others altogether from further pursuit. It was on this occasion that a bard of that day wrote the stanza which appears in the title page, thus translated by the late Iolo Morganwg: “In Ystrad Fîn a doleful sound Pervades the hollow hills around; The very stones with terror melt, Such fear of Twm Shôn Catti’s felt.”