For a moment he remained there dumfounded. What could it be? Surely not a band of robbers in collusion with his wife? "Look out!" cried the shrill voice of Dame Zudár rising above the din outside, "the old carrion has a loaded musket, and would shoot at you if there were a thousand of you." But Zudár did not even require the help of a loaded musket, he would have rushed out among them with his bare fists, but the kitchen door was barred and bolted, and barricaded with all sort of heavy obstacles. Panting hard, Zudár rushed back into his room, sought out a heavy axe, and rushed back to the kitchen door. At the first vigorous strokes the joints of the door began to crack. "Quick! throw the bundles of faggots in front of the door!" shrieked the savage virago outside, "and set it alight at once! Don't you see the door is giving way?" The courtyard was crowded with a mob of louts, armed with scythes and pitchforks, among whom stood Dame Zudár, with dishevelled hair and flaming eyes, like the very Fury of Revolt. The peasant host quickly got together a heap of faggots, and carrying them to the door, literally buried it beneath them. "And now a match! Let him burn in his own den!" It was Zudár's own wife who thus exclaimed. The boor who tried to kindle the fire was such a long time about it, owing to the damp tinder, that Dame Zudár impatiently snatched the flint and steel out of his hands, struck away at it till she had ignited the tinder, then thrust it with her own hand in the midst of the straw surrounding the faggots, fanned it with her apron till it burst into a vivid flame, and then ran across the courtyard to the other side of the faggot heap to set it alight there also. Her wild and tangled tresses fluttered in the tempest. "My father, oh! my good father!" wailed a scarce audible voice from the bottom of the reed-covered waggon to which the headsman's horses had been attached. The dry bunches of twigs and fire-wood suddenly began spluttering and crackling, and burst into a flame. The windows of the house were also crammed full with straw and sticks, and each heap of combustibles was ignited one by one. Soon something very like a big bonfire was blazing merrily all round the house. The man imprisoned within there thundered away at the door with all his might, and at each terrible blow the besiegers laughed derisively. "Bravo, fire away! Frizzle away in your own den, old Bruin!" * * * * *