He remained seated with a beating heart. Surely someone would come after him now. But he heard nothing more than the dripping of the rain. He picked himself up and noticed a wall with a green gate, as he had seen it in his dream.
It was just the same save in one detail; the gate was open. He was greatly disconcerted. Either some one had just gone out of it or was shortly returning; in either case it meant that there was a person in the vicinity. What should he do? Suddenly decided, Prokop kicked the gate open and came out on the main road; and, sure enough, there outside was stumping about a short man in a mackintosh, smoking a pipe. They stood opposite one another, somewhat embarrassed as to how to begin. Naturally the more agile Prokop was the first to take action. Having chosen instantaneously one of a number of possibilities, he threw himself with all his force on the man with a pipe, and, butting him like a goat, threw him into the mud. Then he pressed his chest and elbows into the ground, rather doubtful as to what to do next; for he could hardly wring his neck like a chicken’s. The man underneath him never even let the pipe fall from his mouth and evidently was awaiting developments. “Surrender!” roared Prokop; but at that moment he received a blow from the man’s knee in the stomach and another from his fist under the chin, as a result of which he rolled into a ditch.
When he began to pick himself up he was greeted with another blow, while the man with the pipe remained quietly watching him from the road. “Again?” he said through his teeth. Prokop shook
