"Can not be done. The magistrate is just engaged marrying his daughter," explained father Bribri calmly. "He is now at the wedding."
"Besides, he has the toothache," added Flameche; "he is at the dentist's."
"Take the thief to the lamp-post," said a voice.
"I tell you that I demand to be taken to the magistrate!" repeated the wretch, struggling violently to free himself, and he began to shout:
"Help! Help!"
"If you can read, read this," said one of the workingmen, holding up the poster before the thief. "If you can not read, I shall read it for you:
"SHOT AS A THIEF."
"Shot?" stammered the fellow growing livid. "Shot? Mercy! Help! Assassins! Murder! Watchmen, murder!"
"An example must be set for the likes of you, in order that they may not dishonor the Revolution!" explained father Bribri.
"Now, down on your knees, you scoundrel!" ordered a blacksmith who still had his leathern apron on. "And all of you, my friends, get your guns ready! Down on your knees!" he repeated to the thief, throwing him down on the ground.