Death to the hand
That filches the land!
Dead is that hand,
Ours is the land!
Forever we hold it.
Dead's he that sold it!
Ours is the land.
Dead is the hand!"
Again and again they hurled forth the defiant words, until they stopped at last opposite the inn, with one final, long-drawn shout of savage triumph.
"Well, this is a go!" said Denny, drawing a long breath. "What are the beggars up to?"