rokes grew slower and slower, tapering down at last to
single beats at long intervals.

Whoever has attentively watched the doors of a metal furnace, will know
at once how that sound arises. When the heat of the fire which has
expanded the metal begins to decrease, the expanded fibres of the metal
suddenly begin to contract and give forth a snapping sound as of metal
strings violently torn asunder.

The iron door of the cellar was, in fact, loudly calling the attention
of the master of the house to the fact that the fire had reduced all the
brushwood piled round the house into red-hot embers, and it was
therefore high time for him to seek another asylum.

Peter Zudar seized a large measure of beer, approached the door, and
flung the malt liquid all over it.

Ha! how loudly the glowing metal hissed and spluttered at the contact of
the cold fluid, as if laughing with joy at the artful scheme which it
and the master together had devised for the latter's deliverance.

The iron door was far too burning hot to be opened with the naked hand,
but the blood-red glare visible behind it made it pretty certain that
the lead-soldering had long ago melted away, and it therefore only
needed a vigorous kick to wrench it off its hinges.

Peter Zudar listened attentively. Not a soul was stirring. There was
indeed no reason why anyone should linger any longer in that wretched
place.

Impatience spurred him on to action. He began to lift the door from its
hinges with the help of a heavy crowbar. It gave way sooner than he had
anticipated, and fell at full length on the smoking embers in front of
it, bridging over the fiery stream from one bank to the other.

With a single bound Peter Zudar leaped over the door, and sped away from
the burning house like a madman.

It was dark, nobody saw him. In his way stood huge thistles,
prickly-headed vegetable monsters, and Peter Zudar mowed them all down
with his headsman's sword just as if they had been so many condemned
malefactors, or as if he were a frolicsome lad waging fierce war with a
wooden sword against the whole evil host of weeds. Anybody who had seen
him would have taken him for a lunatic.

He only came to himself when the barking of a dog struck upon his ear;
he knew then that he was on the borders of the village, and close to the
nearest houses.

Then he began slowly to compose himself, the cool night air was soothing
his troubled brain. He now commenced to recollect what h