Lavrans came across to the two as they stood by the gate, and spoke of the storm. ’Twas but rarely it did much harm down here in the parish—but God knew if they should not hear of cattle and horses killed up in the mountains. It was black as night above the church up on the hillside. A lightning flash showed them a troop of horses standing uneasily huddled together on the green-sward outside the church gate. Lavrans thought they could scarce belong here in the parish—rather must they be horses from Dovre that had been running loose up on the hills below Jetta; but yet he had a mind to go up and look at them, he shouted through a peal of thunder—there might be some of his among them— A fearful lightning-flash tore the darkness above the church—the thunder crashed and bellowed so as to deafen them to all other sounds. The cluster of horses burst asunder, scattering over the hill-slopes beneath the mountain ridge. All three of them crossed themselves— Then came another flash; it was as though the heavens split asunder right above them, a mighty snow-white flame swooped down upon them—the three were thrown against each other, and stood with shut, blinded eyes, and a smell in their nostrils as of burning stone—while the crashing thunder rent their ears. “Saint Olav, help us!” said Lavrans in a low voice. “Look! the birch—the birch,” shouted Erlend; the great birch-tree in the field near by seemed to totter—and a huge bough parted from the tree and sank to the ground, leaving a great gash in the trunk. “Think you ’twill catch fire—Jesus Kristus! The churchroof is alight!” shouted Lavrans. They stood and gazed—no—yes! Red flames were darting out among the shingles beneath the ridge-turret. Both men rushed back across the courtyard. Lavrans tore open the doors of all the houses he came to and shouted to those inside; the house-folk came swarming out. “Bring axes, bring axes—timber axes,” he cried, “and bill-hooks”—he ran on to the stables. In a moment he came out leading Guldsveinen by the mane; he sprang on the horse’s bare back and dashed off up the hill, with the great broad-axe in his hand. Erlend rode close behind him—all the men followed; some were a-horseback, but some could not master the terrified beasts, and giving up, ran on afoot. Last came Ragnfrid and all the women on the place with pails and buckets. None seemed to heed the storm any longer. By the light of the flashes they could see folk streaming out of the houses further down the valley. Sira Eirik was far up the hill already, running with his house-folk behind him. There was a thunder of horses’ hoofs on the ridge below—some men galloped past, turning white, appalled faces toward their burning church. It was blowing a little from the southeast. The fire had a strong hold on the north wall; on the west the entrance door was blocked already. But it had not caught yet on the south side nor on the apse.