to take
these wagons into the bloodshed of the streets?"

"We have a passport, and will leave the town," answered the merchant,
doggedly.

"They will not respect our passport," cried Anton in return, while he
held a pistol at the head of the obstreperous landlord.

"If the worst come to the worst, there are other inns in this part of
the town; any of them will be a better refuge."

"But we have not the full complement of drivers, and some of our number
are disaffected."

"I will manage the disaffected," answered the merchant, sternly; "we
have the full number of horses, we only want the men. Those to whom the
horses belong will remain with them. The gate is open--out with the
wagons!"

The gate led to an open space covered with building-stones and _debris_,
and surrounded by a few poor houses. The merchant hastened thither to
superintend the departure. A stout youth came to Anton's assistance.
They were anxious moments these. Near the house, he and his helper were
struggling with the prostrate man, whose ugly wife and her two
maid-servants were howling at the house door. As the first wagon rolled
away, their screams became louder: the landlady called out "help" and
"murder!" and the maids wailed all the louder the more fervently the
young wagoner assured them that no harm would befall his worship, the
landlord, if he would only lie still, and that, moreover, they would all
pay their bills besides.

Just then loud knocks were heard at the house door; the women rushed in
and unlocked it at once; and so great had been the hopeless excitement
of the last few minutes, that it was almost with a sense of relief that
Anton saw a strong body of soldiery defile into the court. He rose from
the ground, and left the landlord free. But the merchant walked slowly,
and with uncertain steps, like a broken-down man, to meet the enemies
who, at this decisive moment, frustrated his will.

The leader of the band, one of those whom the young Pole had in the
morning summoned to the inn, said to the merchant, "You are prisoners;
neither you nor your wagons can leave the town."

"I have a passport," eagerly replied Mr. Schroeter, feeling for his
pocket-book.

"The new government forbids your journey," was the curt rejoinder.

"I must submit," said the merchant, mechanically sitting down on a
wagon-pole, and clinging to the body of the vehicle.

Anton held the half-unconscious man in his arms, and said, in utmost
indignation, "W