“Very good,” said the captain, rising; “we’ll sack Buville.”
In a short time the robber band, followed by the eleven boys, set out for Buville, a few miles distant. When they came within sight of the village the chief ordered his company to get behind a hedge which ran on one side of the road, and thus stealthily approach the place.
As soon as they were near enough the chief gave a loud whistle, and the whole company rushed wildly into the main street. The robbers flashed their drawn swords in the sunlight and brandished their spears, while the boys jumped and howled like so many apprentice bandits.
“Buville is ours!” cried the chief. “Come forth, ye base villagers, and pay us tribute.”
“Come forth!” yelled little Tomtit. “Surrender, and trib!—I mean, pay tribute.”
At this the people began to flock into the street; and presently the principal man of the village appeared, carrying a sheet of paper and pen and ink.
“Good-morning, bold sir,” he said, addressing the chief. “And what is it you’ll have to-day? Shall we begin with flour? How will two barrels do?”
The chief nodded, and the man wrote down on his paper two barrels of flour.
“Sugar, hams, and eggs, I suppose?” continued the man.
The chief assented, and these were written down.