I rubbed his hands and forehead again with beer. I tasted it, and finding no ill flavour upon it, put a tiny drop to his lips.
"You are all right now," I said. "You were very tired, and you fell asleep after supper. Don't you remember?"
He put his hand to his head. "Ah, yes," he said, "I remember. I have been dreaming"....
He looked round the room in a bewildered way; then, struck all at once by the strange disorder of the furniture, asked what was the matter.
I told him in the least alarming way, and with the fewest words I could muster, but before I could get to the end of my explanation he was up, ready for resistance, and apparently himself again.
"Where are they?" he said. "What are they doing now? Outside, do you say? Why, good heavens! man, they're blocking us in. Listen!—don't you hear?—it is the rustling of straw. Bring the blunderbuss! quick!—to the window.... God grant we may not be too late!"
We both rushed to the window; Bergheim to undo the shutter, and I to shoot down the first man in sight.
"Look there!" he said, and pointed to the door.
A thin stream of smoke was oozing under the threshold and stealing upward in a filmy cloud that already dimmed the atmosphere of the room.
"They are going to burn us out!" I exclaimed.