The men exchanged glances; they had nothing to bind him with.
Again to hesitate would be to lose the day; so with a quick resolve he sprang off his horse, tore the bridle from its bit, and handed the thongs to the flügelman on his left.
"Set to work, and two others help."
Reluctantly, and with evil sidelong glances, they obeyed. The prostrate man hit out with hands and feet, and endeavoured to wipe the blood out of his eyes with his sleeve, but his struggles were in vain; the reins bound his wrists, and the foam-spattered curb served as a gag.
Meanwhile the spirited black charger had broken away, and was rearing among the terrified rabble.
Boleslav saw, as he looked behind him, that the church door stood open for a farewell service, and that the key was in the lock.
"Put him in the church," he commanded; and at the same moment the old landlord of the inn appeared on the scene, whimpering and wringing his hands.
"Felixchen!" he yelled, "what are they doing to you? Don't give in; cry for help. Help him, dear people. I order you to help him. I am your mayor. I insist--I command you."
"It is my place to issue commands here," exclaimed Boleslav loftily.
Then the old man changed his tactics, and, by cringing, tried to soften the disciplinarian's heart.