The day they turned their noses toward home there was a big blizzard. The roads were so deep with snow they had to drive at a snail's pace. When they were crossing Klarälven on the ice it was already dusk. Shortly afterward, on coming to Nordsjö Manor, the Paymaster spoke of turning in there to ask for a night's shelter. However, he was anxious to get home, and as they were then within thirteen miles of Mårbacka, he and Bengt decided to drive on. Even though it meant being out in the sledge until ten or eleven at night, sleeping in one's own bed was best.
Coming into the dense forest between Nordsjö and Sandviken, they found the road impassable. The sledge went so heavily the horse had to stop at every step, and neither urging nor coaxing could put life into him.
"This is provoking, Bengt," said the Paymaster. "But isn't there a little forest croft somewhere hereabout?"
"Ay, a bit further on is a hut," Bengt replied; "but you can't take in there. Master!"
"I know what you're thinking of, Bengt. That tavern is said to be the haunt of ruffians and vagabonds, decent folk usually fight shy of it. But what else can we do? We've been three hours getting from Nordsjö here, and the horse is spent. We must get him under cover, where he can rest for the night."
"Well, Master, you do as you think best, said Bengt.
When his man spoke in that manner, the Paymaster
