"You vagabond, answer the questions I am going to put to you and take care that you tell the truth, or you will fare worse."
"There are red ants yonder," said the Bohemian, "order them to be pat upon him, and he will soon find a tongue in his mouth."
Hlawa did not say this seriously; he even smiled as he spoke, for his heart was well inclined toward Sanderus. The latter, however, was terror-stricken, and shouted.
"Mercy! Mercy! Give me some more of that pagan drink and I will tell you all that I have and that I have not seen."
"If you tell lies, even one word that is not true, I will drive a wedge between your teeth," said the Bohemian.
They brought him another skin full of mares' milk; he grasped it and fastened his lips to it with the avidity that a child does to its mother's breast, and began to gulp it down, alternatively opening and closing his eyes. When he had drank from it about half a gallon or more, he shook himself, placed the skin upon his knees, and as if submitting himself to the inevitable, he said:
"Vile stuff!…" Then he turned toward Zbyszko. "Now, deliverer! ask."
"Was my wife in that division with you?"
Sanderus' face assumed a certain air of surprise. In fact he had heard that Danusia was Zbyszko's wife, but it had been a secret marriage, and immediately afterward she had been abducted, and he had always thought of her as Jurandowna, (Miss Jurand).
He replied quickly: