'What is it?'
'A peasant with a cartload of wood.'
'Out of the way, dog. Throw him into the ditch!'
'Shut up! We'd better move him on.'
'That we will! We are going to move the peasant on. Out of your sledges, gentlemen!'
Before Maciek had recovered from his astonishment, he was surrounded by masked men in rich costumes with plumed hats, swords, guitars, or brooms. They seized his sledge and himself, pushed them to the top of the hill and down the other side on to level ground.
'Thank God!' thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows!'
'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill,' some one shouted from the distance.
'Then let them get out and walk!'
'The sledges had better not go down.'