"Open the door for Hiisi, the mountain king. There is an unchristened child within, and all heathen belong to me!"
"Wait a minute, until I put on my surplice and collar, so that I can receive so distinguished a guest with proper dignity," answered the priest.
"Hurry, then!" growled the mountain king; "hurry, or I will kick the walls down."
"Immediately, immediately, sir," answered the priest.
But at the same time he took a bowl of water and christened Sampo Lappelil with all proper ceremony.
"Well, are you not ready yet?" growled the mountain king, and he lifted his terrible foot to kick the house down.
But the priest opened the door and said: "Begone, you king of night and winter, for with this child you have nothing to do! The sun of God's grace shines over Sampo Lappelil, and he belongs not to you but to God's kingdom!"
Then the mountain king grew so furious that he burst on the spot and turned into a terrible snow-cloud, and it snowed so hard that the snow reached up over the roof of the parsonage and they all expected to be buried alive. But when the morning came the sun shone on the snow, the snow melted away, and the parsonage and all in it were saved; and there was no sign of the mountain king. Every one thinks, however, that he still lives and reigns on Rastekais.
Sampo Lappelil thanked the priest and borrowed a pulk from him. Then he harnessed to it the reindeer with the golden horns and went home to his father in Aimio. There was great joy when Sampo Lappelil came back so unexpectedly. But how he became a great man and fed his reindeer with golden oats from a silver manger, that is another story, which it would take too long to tell now. It is said that since that time when Sampo had such a narrow escape, the Lapps have never, as before, put off from year to year having their little children christened—for who would like to see his child eaten up by the terrible mountain king? Sampo Lappelil knows what it means to run that risk! And having heard Hiisi's mighty footsteps, he knows, too, precisely what it is when thunder resounds in the mountains.
—Z. Topelius.
Translated by Margaret Böcher.