they confidently replied.

"Take care," said one of the counsellors. "Do not venture so much.
Perhaps you may yet be found guilty."

They replied by a haughty "No," and insisted on their innocence. Gustavus
then spoke again, his gaze now stern and threatening:

"Choose one of these two. Either to confess yourselves guilty and accept
pardon, or to be tried and condemned according to law."

"We choose to be judged according to the law," they replied; "and if we
be found partakers in this rebellion we will willingly suffer and pay for
it, as may be adjudged against us."

These words, and the stern dignity of the king, impressed all in the
hall. Complete silence reigned and all eyes were fixed on his face. He
gave a signal to his servants and two boxes were carried in. These were
opened and a number of letters were produced. The king asked the culprits
if they recognized these letters. This they stoutly denied. Then a number
of them were read aloud and complete proof of their complicity in the
rebellion was shown, the judges recognizing the hand and seal of the
defendants.

Pale and thunderstruck, they listened tremblingly to the reading of the
fatal letters; then fell upon their knees, weeping and imploring mercy.
Their repentance came too late. The king bade the council to examine into
the matter at once and pronounce sentence. This was that the three
criminals should suffer the fate which they had declared themselves ready
to bear; they were condemned as traitors and sentenced to loss of life
and estate.

The trembling culprits were taken to a room above the school-house,
locked in and a strong guard set before the door. Here they were left to
the contemplation of their coming fate. Despairingly they looked around
for some means of escape, and a shade of hope returned when they fancied
they had discovered one. There were no bars to their window, but it was
far above the ground. But beneath it stood a pear tree, so near the
building that they thought they might leap into its branches and climb
down its trunk to the ground.

Waiting until night had fallen, they prepared to make the effort, Mans
Bryntesson being the first to try. He missed the tree and fell to the
ground, breaking his leg in the fall. The others, seeing his ill fortune,
did not venture to follow. In great pain he crept from the garden into an
adjoining field. Here his strength gave out and he lay hidden in the
half-grown rye.

Missed the next mor