Suddenly he heard a whistle, and five men rushed out from a clump of trees and threw themselves upon him. The Count struggled to the trees, set his back against one and prepared to fight. The robbers were armed with knives, but the Count had only a big stick. On they rushed at him. He struck at the first one with all his strength, and hit him so hard that he fell to the ground. Another one crept up to his side, and would have cut his head open; but the Count turned quickly, and, catching the stroke on his stick, snatched the knife from the robber's hand, and with a blow sent him to join his comrade senseless on the ground. This left three against one, and the Count felt his strength giving way under their blows. Still full of courage, he swung the stick round his head to keep the wretches at a distance, and, as loudly as he could, he prayed to God to send him help. At this moment he saw dimly outlined against the darkness a human figure. In its hands it wielded a strange weapon, which soon was falling again and again on the heads and shoulders of the three bandits until they took to their heels and ran. At first the Count thought it was some angel from heaven come to his help, but as the figure drew nearer he saw that it was a farmer, and that the mysterious weapon was a flail.
The Count and the farmer embraced each other, and for a moment did not speak. Then said the Count, "My brave fellow! How can I thank you? You have saved my life!"
But the farmer would not listen to his thanks; "No, no," said he; "I have done only what you would have done for me in the same circumstances, and nothing more need be said. I take it that you are a merchant earning a living for your wife and family, as I try to do for mine."
But the Count insisted that the farmer should ask some favor. "Listen!" said he; "I am in the service of the Count, and perhaps can do you some great good."
The Robbers Were Armed With Knives
For a time the farmer was silent, and then, hesitating very much, he told the Count his dearest wish. "For thirty years I have worked on a piece of land; with this flail I have beaten the corn, and I have loved the farm as my child. Yesterday my master died, and the land will pass into strange hands and out of my care."
The Count had listened quietly to his story, and at last spoke: "But, my friend, this is not such a difficult matter. How would you like the land for your own?"