The towering,
broad-shouldered Holt stood quiet as a lamb, looked with an air of
astonishment at the confusion, and suffered himself to be handcuffed.
His comrades, however, behaved like anything but lambs. They laid about
them with hands and feet, knocking down the policemen, and giving
bloody mouths and noses to all who came within their reach.

"Handcuff us!" they screamed, grinding their teeth, bleeding and
cursing. "Are we cutthroats?" The bystanders drew back in apprehension.
The confusion seemed to be past remedying. A thousand voices were
screaming, bawling, and crying at the same time; the circle around the
struggling countrymen was getting wider and wider; and when finally
they attempted to break through, the crowd took to flight, as if a
couple of tigers were after them.

Many of the spectators found a pleasurable excitement in watching the
battle between the policemen and the peasants; but they would not move
a finger to aid the officers of the law in arresting the culprits. They
admired the agility and strength of the countrymen, and the more fierce
the struggle became, the greater grew their delight, and the louder
their merriment.

Holt had been carried on with the motion of the crowd. When he dealt
the blow to the fellow in the car, he was beside himself with rage. The
genuine _furor teutonicus_ had taken possession of him so irresistibly
and so bewilderingly as to leave him utterly without any of the calm
judgment necessary to measure the situation. After his first adventure,
he had submitted to be handcuffed, and had watched the struggle between
Forchhaem and his own comrades in a sort of absence of mind. He had
stood perfectly quiet, his face had become pale, and his eyes looked
about strangely. The excitement of passion was now beginning to wear
off. He felt the cold iron of the manacles around his wrists, his eyes
glared, his face became crimson, the sinews of his powerful arm
stiffened, and with one great muscular convulsion he wrenched off the
handcuffs. Nobody had observed this sudden action, all eyes being
directed to the combatants. Shoving the part of the handcuff which
still hung to his wrist under the sleeve of his jacket, Holt
disappeared through the crowd.

The resistance of the peasants was gradually becoming fainter. At
length they succumbed to overpowering force, and were handcuffed.

"Where is the third one?" cried Seicht. "There were three of them."

"Where is the third one? T