“On the contrary,” answered the stranger, “you have that which interests me greatly. And I will not leave you until we are safe behind some door in the city. Here, boy,” he shouted at Joseph, “lead my horse along behind the wagon, for I intend to ride the rest of the way.” Pan Charnetski’s cheeks blazed. “Now, by the lightning, you make yourself too free here,” he articulated. “State what business you have quickly and be done.” The man glanced around the cart and he saw on the wooden floor just in front of the driver’s seat a huge yellow pumpkin. “Ha,” he said, “a pumpkin, and at this time of the year. I suppose they raise pumpkins in the winter on the steppe. What shall be the price of that pumpkin?” “It is not for sale,” answered Charnetski. “No?” “I said no.” “What if I offer its weight in gold?” “All’s one.” “You will not sell?” “I tell you, _no_.” “Then”—the stranger drew his sword quickly—“then you will fight for it!” And he stepped forward toward the driver. Charnetski hesitated no longer. In the flash of an eye he had vaulted across the seat, dodged a blow of the saber, and caught the stranger’s right wrist in a grip of steel. The sword dropped with a clang. Charnetski did not let the man go, however. He threw his left hand into the small of the stranger’s leg and with clutch upon arm and leg hoisted him high and tossed him out of the cart. He fell in the mud, sputtering with rage and calling curses of every description upon Charnetski’s head. And at this minute Joseph, with admirable foresight, swung the man’s horse about and struck him smartly upon the right flank. The horse reared and capered, then dashed off down the road in the direction from which the wagons had come; at the same instant the boy leaped upon the cart and shouted to his father who climbed back to the seat and swung the long lash over the horses’ heads. They were off in a second, leaving the stranger in the middle of the highway, turning now to the right and now to the left as if uncertain whether to pursue his horse or his enemy. And Charnetski, swinging about, picked up the sword from the bottom of the cart and hurled it into the road. Some time later they reached the Kazimierz, the Jewish city founded by King Kazimir more than one hundred years earlier. Passing through this, they came to the bridge across the Vistula which would admit them to the city of Krakow itself. Finding, however, that this bridge was undergoing repairs, they were forced to take the next bridge to the north; thence they proceeded to the fortified gate called Mikolayska, where they were challenged by the gatekeeper. CHAPTER II KRAKOW “Charnetski, Christian, wife and son,” said Pan Andrew to a custodian who wore light armor and carried a halberd.