with vehicles. They had to take the wagons apart; but that was done adroitly and in a twinkle. Wheels, poles, and axles, as well as packs and provisions, were borne by strong men on their shoulders. There were three furlongs of that bad road, and the party arrived at Budy late in the evening, where the tar-burners received them hospitably, and declared that they could reach the town through Chartsi Vandol, or, more correctly, by passing along the side of it. Those people, inured to life in the wilderness, saw bread and flour rarely, but they did not suffer from hunger, since they were wading in dried food of every sort, especially eels, with which all the swampy places were swarming. They gave these, therefore, bountifully, stretching out grasping hands to receive cakes in return for them. Among these people were women and children, all black from tar-smoke. One man more than a hundred years old remembered the massacre of Lenchytsa, and the utter destruction of that town by the Knights of the Cross in 1331. Matsko, Hlava, and the two young women, though they had heard almost the same narrative from the prior at Sieradz, listened with curiosity to the old man, who, sitting by the fire, and poking it, seemed to poke out the dreadful memories of his youth. So in Lenchytsa, as well as in Sieradz, they spared neither churches nor priests, and the blood of old men, women, and children flowed down the knife-blades of the conquerors. The Knights of the Cross, always the Knights of the Cross! Matsko's thoughts and Yagenka's flew continually toward Zbyshko, who was just then in the jaws of the wolf, as it were, among a hostile race, knowing neither pity nor guest rights. Anulka's heart grew faint; she was not even sure that they would not have to go among those terrible people in their chase after the abbot.
But the old man began to tell of that battle of Plovtsi, which put an end to the invasion of the Order. He had fought with an iron flail in his hands at that battle, as an attendant in the infantry furnished by a commune of land-tillers. In this battle perished the Grady save one, hence Matsko knew all its details completely; still he listened as if it were new to that narrative of the dreadful defeat of the Germans, when they fell under the swords of Polish knights and the power of King Lokietek.
"Ha! I remember it well, be sure of that," said the old man. "They came into this land, they burnt towns and castles. Why! they slaughtered children in the cradle; but
