A dismal presentiment assailed the thief. He straggled to disengage himself and cried out: "If you charge me with theft--take me before the magistrate." "Can not be done. The magistrate is just engaged marrying his daughter," explained father Bribri calmly. "He is now at the wedding." "Besides, he has the toothache," added Flameche; "he is at the dentist's." "Take the thief to the lamp-post," said a voice. "I tell you that I demand to be taken to the magistrate!" repeated the wretch, struggling violently to free himself, and he began to shout: "Help! Help!" "If you can read, read this," said one of the workingmen, holding up the poster before the thief. "If you can not read, I shall read it for you: "SHOT AS A THIEF." "Shot?" stammered the fellow growing livid. "Shot? Mercy! Help! Assassins! Murder! Watchmen, murder!" "An example must be set for the likes of you, in order that they may not dishonor the Revolution!" explained father Bribri. "Now, down on your knees, you scoundrel!" ordered a blacksmith who still had his leathern apron on. "And all of you, my friends, get your guns ready! Down on your knees!" he repeated to the thief, throwing him down on the ground. The wretch sank upon his knees in a state of such utter collapse and terror that, crouching upon the pavement, he could only extend his hands and mutter in an almost inaudible voice: "Oh, mercy! Not death!" "You fear death! Wait, I shall bandage your eyes," said the ragpicker. And letting down his sack from his shoulders, father Bribri took a large piece of cloth out of it and threw it over the condemned man who, on his knees and gathered into a lump, was almost wholly covered therewith. Soon as that was done, the ragpicker stepped quickly back. Three shots were fired at once. Popular justice was done. A few minutes later, fastened under his arms to the lamp-post, the corpse of the bandit swung to the night breeze with the poster attached to his clothes: "Shot as a thief." CHAPTER X. ON THE BARRICADE. Shortly after the execution of the thief day began to dawn. Presently the men who were stationed on the lookout at the corners of the streets in the neighborhood of the barricade, that now reached almost as high as the first story windows of the linendraper's house, were seen falling back; after firing their pieces, they cried out "To arms!" Almost immediately after, the drums, silent until then, were heard to beat the charge, and two companies of the Municipal Guards turned in from a side street and marched resolutely upon the barricade. Instantaneously the interior of the improvised fortress was filled with defenders. Monsieur Lebrenn, his son, George Duchene and their friends took their posts and held their guns in readiness.