His words impressed them certainly, but they looked askance at the man, and eyed him with distrustful side-glances; some even turned their backs. The memory of the priest’s words in church, and of Antek’s wicked life, was too fresh in their minds.—But he cared nothing for that: he was possessed by a spirit of recklessness and a savage lust of fighting; and he wound up by crying at the top of his voice: “Boys, do not give in, do not be cravens, do not surrender your rights! To-day it is the forest they are wresting from you: fail to defend it, and to-morrow they will grab at your lands, at your homesteads, at all you have! Who will prevent them? Who will cry: ‘Hands off?’” His words struck home. A low growl went through the room; the crowd surged violently to and fro, with wild eyes flashing fire. A hundred fists were lifted up, and a hundred throats thundered forth: “We will! We will!” till the tavern-walls shook to the din. It was this that the leaders were waiting for. At once Matthew, Kobus and Kozlova rushed forward, shrieking, cursing, and ruffling up the spirits of the men so, that the place was presently resounding with a confused noise of war-cries, imprecations, fists smiting the tables, and the fierce boisterous uproar of an angry mob. Everyone shouted his opinion, everyone had his own plan that all must follow. The tumult increased, and threatened to degenerate into brawling; for the men were growing quarrelsome, and wreaked their resentment for the wrong done them on those nearest at hand. Nor could they agree on anything to be done; for no one there had authority enough to put himself at their head and avenge them. Little by little, they broke up into groups, with the loudest talker amongst them laying down his opinion. “Why, they have hewn down half the forest—oak-trees of such a size that five men could not clasp them!” “All this the son of Klemba has seen!” “And they are going to cut down the rest, without asking your leave!” Kozlova shrieked, pressing forward to the bar. “The manor-folk have always oppressed us.” “Why not? Let them drive you, if you are silly enough sheep to allow them.” “We must not, we must not!—Let’s all go out together, drive off the woodmen, and take back our forest!” “And slay the oppressor!” “Yea, let him be slain!” Fists rose into the air with defiant gestures, a deafening shout was raised, and the whole multitude breathed hate and revenge. When the noise had subsided, Matthew, standing at the bar, cried to his friends: “We, village folk, are pressed together as fish caught in a net: the manor-lands, stretching out on all sides, squeeze the life out of us.—Would ye send your cows to grass? Ye cannot for the manor-lands.—Would ye give your horses to eat? No, the manor-lands are there!—Ye cannot throw a stone but it falls on the manor-lands ... and ye are taken to the court—sentenced—fined—imprisoned!”