“Our people!” he said to himself.
After a while he shouted, however:
“Stop!”
“And you sit down!” answered a joyous voice.
“Who are you?”
“And you?”
“Why do you follow us?”
“And why do you obstruct the road?”
“Answer, our crossbows are bent.”
“And ours,—thrust out,—aimed!”
“Answer like a man, otherwise woe to you!”
To this a merry song was given, as an answer to Zbyszko.
“One misery with another
They are dancing on the crossway.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!
What use have they of dancing?
It’s a good thing, anyhow.
Hoc! Hoc! Hoc!”
Zbyszko was amazed at hearing such an answer; meantime, the song stopped and the same voice asked:
“And how is the old man Macko? Does he still breathe?”
Macko rose in the wagon and said:
“For God’s sake, they are some of our people!”
Zbyszko rushed forward
