he left, the fugitive hid in his
ancestral home at Raefsnaes on lake Maelar. There one of Brahe's men
brought him news of the massacre in which his master and Gustav's
father had perished. His mother, grandmother, and sisters were
dragged away to perish in Danish dungeons. On Gustav's head the King
had set a price, and spies were even then on his track.

Gustav's mind was made up. What was there now to wait for? Clad as a
peasant, he started for Dalecarlia with a single servant to keep him
company, but before he reached the mines the man stole all his money
and ran away. He had to work now to live, and hired out to Anders
Persson, the farmer of Rankhyttan. He had not been there many days
when one of the women saw an embroidered sleeve stick out under his
coat and told her master that the new hand was not what he pretended
to be. The farmer called him aside, and Gustav told him frankly who
he was. Anders Persson kept his secret, but advised him not to stay
long in any one place lest his enemies get wind of him. He slipped
away as soon as it was dark, nearly lost his life by breaking
through the ice, but reached Ornaes on the other side of Lake Runn,
half dead with cold and exposure. He knew that another Persson who
had been with him in the war lived there, and found his house.
Arendt Persson was a rascal. He received him kindly, but when he
slept harnessed his horse and went to Mans Nilsson, a neighbor,
with the news: the King's reward would make them both rich, if he
would help him seize the outlawed man.

Mans Nilsson held with the Danes, but he was no traitor, and he
showed the fellow the door. He went next to the King's sheriff; he
would be bound to help. To be sure, he would claim the lion's share
of the blood-money, but something was better than nothing. The
sheriff came soon enough with a score of armed men. But Arendt
Persson had not reckoned with his honest wife. She guessed his
errand and let Gustav down from the window to the rear gate, where
she had a sleigh and team in waiting. When the sheriff's posse
surrounded the house, Gustav was well on his way to Master Jon, the
parson of Svaerdsjoe, who was his friend. Tradition has it that while
Christian was King, the brave little woman never dared show her face
in the house again.

Master Jon was all right, but news of the man-hunt had run through
the country, and when the parson's housekeeper one day saw him hold
the wash-bowl for his guest she wanted to kno