"Mein Gott, shust hear him now I" said a voice on the other side,
which caused Desmit to turn with a start. A bearded German, with a
pair of myoptic glasses adding their glare to the peculiar intensity
of the short-sighted gaze, had climbed upon the opposite wheel
during his conversation with Pat, and leaning half through the
window was scanning carefully the inside of the carriage. He had
already one hand on the demijohn of peach-brandy upon which the
owner's hopes so much depended. Potetsatem Desmit was no coward,
and his gold-headed cane made the acquaintance of the Dutchman's
poll before he had time to utter a word of protestation.

It was all over in a minute, then. There was a rush and a scramble.
The old man was dragged out of his carriage, fighting manfully
but vainly. Twenty hands laid hold upon him. The gold-headed cane
vanished; the gold-mounted glasses disappeared; his watch leaped
from his pocket, and the chain was soon dangling at the fob of one
of the still laughing marauders. Then one insisted that his hat
was unbecoming for a colonel, and a battered and dirty infantry
cap with a half-obliterated corps badge and regimental number was
jammed down on his gray hairs; he was required to remove his coat,
and then another took a fancy to his vest. The one who took his
coat gave him in exchange a very ragged, greasy, and altogether
disgusting cavalry jacket, much too short, and not large enough to
button. The carriage was almost torn in pieces in the search for
treasure. Swords and bayonets were thrust through the panelling; the
cushions were ripped open, the cover torn off, and every possible
hiding-place examined. Then thinking it must be about his person,
they compelled him to take off his boots and stockings. In their
stead a pair of almost soleless shoes were thrown him by one who