"No, no, Owen," said they, "must will not do now; we have you safe; here are ten of us; and we will not let you come through till you have promised that you will not make any more dust."
Owen, without making any answer, began to kick, and push, and pull, and struggle, with all his might; but in vain he struggled, pulled, pushed and kicked; he found that ten people are stronger than one.—When he felt that he could not conquer them by force, he began to cry; and he roared as loud as he possibly could.
No one but the turnpike-man was within hearing; and he stood laughing at Owen.
Owen tried to climb the gate; but he could not get over it, because there were iron spikes at the top.
"Only promise that you will not kick up the dust, and they will let you through," said Marianne.
Owen made no answer, but continued to struggle till his whole face was scarlet, and till both his wrists ached: he could not move the turn-stile an inch.
"Well," said he, stopping short, "now you are all of you joined together; you are stronger than I; but I am as cunning as you."
He left the stile, and began to walk homewards.
"Where are you going? You will be too late at school, if you turn back and go by the lane," said Marianne.
"I know that, very well; but that will be your fault, and not mine—I shall tell our dame, that you all of you held the turn-stile against me, and would not let me through."