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Now, only eight yagers with a sergeant at their head still

defended themselves; the Warden ran against them, but they boldly

stood their ground and aimed nine musket barrels straight at the

brow of the Warden; he flew to meet the shot, brandishing the

blade of his penknife. The Monk saw it, and ran across Gerwazy's

path; he fell and tripped Gerwazy. They fell at the very moment

when the platoon fired; hardly had the bullets whistled over him,

when Gerwazy rose, and jumped up into the smoke. He straightway

sheared off the heads of two yagers; the rest fled in confusion,

the Warden chased and slashed them. They ran across the yard,

Gerwazy on their track; they rushed into the door of a shed

standing open, and Gerwazy entered the shed at their heels. He

vanished in the darkness, but did not quit fighting, for through

the door could be heard groans, yells, and frequent blows. Soon

all became silent; Gerwazy came out alone, with a bloody sword.