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 all discussion ended, although it had no idea how all this was to be accomplished. But several voices from among the elders rose in disapproval.

“It is with no wish to offend, you, father Zakhar, or to disparage your respectful old age, that I disagree with you,” spoke up one townsman. “But your advice though wise and holding promises of glory, is not prudent for us to follow. Our forces are too small compared to the enormity of the Mongolian. We have not yet received	aid	from any other of the mountain top communities and	even if it came in time, our numbers still would not suffice to even surround the Mongolian army, let alone defeat it in an open battle. And how otherwise are we to rout them? No, no! Our army is too inadequate! We will be lucky if	we can defend our village and turn them away from our trail, but we shouldn’t entertain any false hopes of disbanding them!”

Though Zakhar was hurt he was ready to discard his youthfully zealous ideas in favor of the opinion of the majority and would have acknowledged the validity of their arguments when two unexpected occurrences boosted the spirit of the Tukholian townspeople and perceptibly changed the entire aspect of their decision on the problem.

From the other end of the valley, marched along the road, one after the other, accompanied by loud blasts of trumpets and wails of trembitas, three companies of armed youths from three different townships. Each town carried its ensign before it and their stout-hearted battle songs echoed far over the hills. This was the vanguard of aid promised the Tukholians from the mountain crest communities. Man after man, like a forest of full-grown maples, stood all three proud companies, in long, straight rows before the folk-mote and dipped their banners before the villagers in salute. It was a pleasure to gaze at the healthy red cheeks, warmed by manful courage and pride in the fact that the time had come for them to shield with their broad