The robber's eyes gleamed. Sufficient silver to fill many pots was piled up there.
"Which will you have? silver or bank-notes?"
"Silver," whispered the robber.
"Then hold your cap."
Kandur held his lamb-skin cap in his two hands like a pouch, and placed his knife between his teeth.
Sárvölgyi dived deeply into the silver pile with his hand, and when he drew it back, he held before the robber's nose a double-barrelled pistol, ready cocked.
It was a fine precaution—a pistol beautifully covered up by a heap of coins.
The robber staggered back, and forgot to withdraw the knife from his mouth. And so he stood before Sárvölgyi, a knife between his teeth, his eyes wide opened, and his two hands stretched before him in self-defence.
"You see," said Sárvölgyi calmly, "I might shoot you now, did I wish. You are entirely in my power. But see, I spoke the truth to you.—Hold your cap and take the money."
He put the pistol down beside him and took out a goodly pile of dollars.