There was a wild outbreak of anger
below, and the mob swarmed in from all around, and there we were
treed, and prisoners. Another man started up; the bridging bough
was detected, and a volunteer started up the tree that furnished
the bridge. The king ordered me to play Horatius and keep the
bridge. For a while the enemy came thick and fast; but no matter,
the head man of each procession always got a buffet that dislodged
him as soon as he came in reach. The king's spirits rose, his joy
was limitless. He said that if nothing occurred to mar the prospect
we should have a beautiful night, for on this line of tactics we
could hold the tree against the whole country-side.
However, the mob soon came to that conclusion themselves; wherefore
they called off the assault and began to debate other plans.
They had no weapons, but there were plenty of stones, and stones
might answer. We had no objections. A stone might possibly
penetrate to us once in a while, but it wasn't very likely; we were
well protected by boughs and foliage, and were not visible from
any good aiming point. If they would but waste half an hour in
stone-throwing, the dark would come to our help. We were feeling
very well satisfied. We could smile; almost laugh.
But we didn't; which was just as well, for we should have been
interrupted. Before the stones had been raging through the leaves
and bouncing from the boughs fifteen minutes, we began to notice
a smell.
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