In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and said they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only the door, but every window in the house was so secured on the outside that it was impossible to open one of them without using great force. Poor Derba looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He broke out laughing.
'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keep Lina and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm—even if they built up doors and windows.'
With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said, and before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant by it.
And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with drawn swords, and followed by a great multitude of people, requiring the miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that he might be tried for the disturbance he had occasioned and the injury he had committed, the other that she might be roasted alive for her part in killing two valuable and harmless animals belonging to worthy citizens. The summons was preceded and followed by flourish of trumpet, and was read with every formality by the city marshal himself.
The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood opposite the door.
'I surrender,' cried Curdie.
'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.'
'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm not going to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must take her.'
'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.'
'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you first,' cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' With that Curdie turned to Derba, and said: