Of his youthful experiences especially, many stories were told. He was once in an alehouse where music was playing, and the lads were disputing who should have the honour of dancing a solo.
When they could in nowise determine among themselves, Bartos stepped up to the table, behind which sat the musicians, clapped his fist down upon it, and shouted out “Play me a solo.” The musicians tuned up, and Bartos had already begun to spin round in the waltz with some damsel or other. But his comrades would not leave him in peace. Like one man they clubbed together against him, and tried to hinder him from dancing. Bartos let go his partner, caught the foremost of the lads with one hand by the neck, with the other hand by the girdle, lifted him off his feet high in the air, began to chevy the others with him, to strike them blindly with him, and to press them towards the doorway until he pressed them through it; then he flung the one whom he had held by the neck and the girldle among them, and said “Take him, it was he who worsted you.” Then he looked around for his partner, she was cowering under a bench in a corner of the room and trembled all over. Says Bartos, “Just come out of that,” and then to the musicians “You have not finished playing us the solo.” Never in her life had the damsel danced as she did that day. The servants peeped in at the window to see how she and Bartos danced together,
