The delighted peasants danced round the press, and Gabriel told the boys it was better not to let the beam down, as the oil which ran from the mill while the olives were grinding, and from the press, under that light pressure, was of the best quality.
When it ceased to run, the oil in the trough was dipped out, and the beam let down, when it began to run freely again. They stood upon the beam, and put on rocks, till they pressed the cake dry.
"It will be difficult," said Gabriel, "to get this beam up; and your 'gin' will be of no use without the tackle."
"We have got another tackle. The captain will sell this, and take his pay in oil, I know. Contribute among yourselves, and buy it."
"That we will gladly do."
"I've got some old wine," said Felix, "that came out of the cellars of the aristocrats; he can have that."
It was about four o'clock of an afternoon when the boys arrived at this successful termination of their philanthropic labors.
"This," said Gabriel, "has been a great day, a good day, one long to be remembered. Let us do no more to-day, but enjoy ourselves with these good citizens; we can soon press the olives now."
As they sat conversing, after supper, Walter said to the peasants,—
"People in our country—when a person has done a foolish thing; injured himself in trying to hurt another—have a fashion of saying 'that he has bitten off his nose to spite his face.' It seems to me that you did a very silly thing when you broke the mill-stones and burnt up the oil and wine presses of the aristocrats. The stone never harmed you. Didn't you know that your crops were coming off, and that you would need all these things yourselves? Why did you destroy those beautiful avenues and groves? Now that the aristocrats are gone, you would be right glad to have those noble trees yourselves."