"Now be quiet and listen to me," she went on.
The cannon thundered on the Szekler Stone in one continuous roar, while fiery rockets shot from Hidas Peak in a wide curve and fell into the valley below, hastening the mad flight of routed and panic-stricken men, who fled as if for their lives to Gyertyamos, Kapolna, and Bedelloe, to the woods, and into the mountain defiles.

The burning village of St.
George no longer offered them an asylum, and its streets were by this time nearly deserted.
"That is over," said the Wallachian girl, calmly, and she led Manasseh into the empty house.

"Aaron might as well stop now," she murmured to herself; "for there are no more to frighten." Then to Manasseh: "You know it takes two to get up a scare,--one to do the frightening and the other to be frightened.

If I had but said to our men, 'Stop running away! Those are not the brass cannon of the national guard, but only Aaron Adorjan's holes in the side of the rock, where he is harmlessly exploding gunpowder; and that roll of drums that you hear on the Csegez road does not mean an approaching brigade of Hungarians, but is only the idle rub-a-dub of a band of school children,'-- if I had said that, Toroczko would now lie in ashes.

But I held my tongue and let the panic do its work.