The crowd, with the quarryman at their head, and Ciboule not far from him, brandishing a stick, advanced tumultously towards one of the great doors.The ground shook beneath the rapid tread of the mob, which had now ceased shouting; but the confused, and, as it were, subterraneous noise, sounded even more ominous than those savage outcries.The Wolves soon arrived opposite the massive oaken door.At the moment the blaster raised a sledgehammer, the door opened suddenly.Some of the most determined of the assailants were about to rush in at this entrance; but the quarryman stepped back, extending his arm as if to moderate their ardor and impose silence.Then his followers gathered round him.
The half-open door discovered a party of workmen, unfortunately by no means numerous, but with countenances full of resolution.They had armed themselves hastily with forks, iron bars, and clubs.Agricola, who was their leader, held in his hand a heavy sledge-hammer.The young workman was very pale; but the fire of his eye, his menacing look, and the intrepid assurance of his bearing, showed that his father's blood boiled in his veins, and that in such a struggle he might become fear-inspiring.
Yet he succeeded in restraining himself, and challenged the quarryman, in a firm voice: "What do you want?"
"A fight!" thundered the blaster.
"Yes, yes! a fight!" repeated the crowd.
"Silence, my Wolves!" cried the quarryman, as he turned round, and stretched forth his large hand towards the multitude.Then addressing Agricola, he said: "The Wolves have come to ask for a fight."
"With whom?"
"With the Devourers."
"There are no Devourers here," replied Agricola; "we are only peaceable workmen.So begone."
"Well! here are the Wolves, that will eat your quiet workmen."
"The Wolves will eat no one here," said Agricola, looking full at the quarryman, who approached him with a threatening air; "they can only frighten little children."