"The king's murderess!"
"Shall we allow her to sit in peace and destroy both king and country with her witch-shots?" cried a drunken clerk of assizes, who had just joined the company.
"Let us duck her in the sea!" shrieked a Nerpes peasant.
"Let us club her on the spot!" yelled a Lappo cottager, with an eagle nose and dark bushy eyebrows.
"And if they do not give her into our hands, we will set fire to Korsholm and burn the owl and the nest at the same time," said a ferocious Laihela peasant.
"Better that, than to have the kingdom ruined," remarked a grave-looking seal-hunter from Replot.
"Here, take brands!" shouted a Worä peasant.
"To Korsholm!" cried the whole crowd. And stimulated as usual by their own clamour, they rushed to the big open fire-place in the large room, and pulled out all the brands from it. But, unfortunately, there was a lot of hemp hanging in bundles on the wall in the room. One of the conscripts in the scramble swung his brand too high, and the hemp caught fire; the strong draught from the open door fanned the flame, and in a few minutes the ale-house was in full blaze.
All inside rushed out, and no one had time to realise how it happened.
"It is a witch-shot!" cried some of them.