"He must be got out of the way." "We'll take care of that." "All the exits from the place must be seized after nightfall, and a band of our bravest lads must make a dash for the town hall. Take care that no close-cropped head[9] escapes from the place, even if he be dressed as a peasant. The rest shall be my care." [Footnote 9: No gentleman.] "All right, master." "Then we must have Mekipiros ready in front of the forester's hut." "Why that, master? The fellow is dumb and foolish. You know that he bit out his tongue under torture." "So much the better. He cannot talk. He must have brandy, and lots of it." "When he drinks brandy he becomes like a wild beast. He can bite and scratch now, but when he is drunk you can make him worry people like a dog." "That is just what we want. There may be things to be done which a man would willingly keep out of and yet have done all the same. Do you take me?" "Yes, perfectly, you are worthy of all admiration, master. We can let loose this wild beast in cases where we don't want our own hands to be soiled. When he has lots of brandy he would shoot his own father if you put a gun in his hands. And if anything goes wrong we can lay all the blame on him." The master regarded his pupil with a look of solemn reproach. "And you are capable," said he, "capable of saying in cold blood, 'if anything goes wrong'? Ivan, you are not a true believer. Ivan, you are a worthless fellow." The youth was greatly taken aback at these words, and made a feeble attempt to defend himself. "Ivan, you are a worthless fellow, I say. I regret that I chose you out to take part in this great work." Ivan grew angry. "What! you chose me! Why, it was I who chose you! Am I not the head of the conspiracy?" "And am I not its soul?" "What! with those weak pipe-stem arms of yours! Look at my arms! Look!" said Ivan, turning up his shirt sleeves and exposing his fleshy arms. "I could do more with one of my arms than you could with your whole body." "And yet you are a coward if you ask, shall we succeed?" "I'll show what I am when I am on the spot," said Ivan, sticking out his brawny chest and boastfully thumping it with his clenched fist; at that moment he wore the expression of a savage proud of his bones and sinews. "Till then, however, let there be peace between us," said Bodza, extending his dry and skinny hand towards Ivan in token of reconciliation, and Ivan squeezed the hand with all his might, not so much to convince the master of the firmness of his friendship as to give him some idea of the expressive vigour of his grip. Bodza did not move a muscle of his face during this violent tension; but, all at once, Ivan began writhing, his features contracted with pain, and he placed one hand on his stomach. "Well, what is the matter?" inquired Bodza. The fellow doubled up with pain. "I have a sudden stitch, in the side."