search of the
fugitive and some of them entered the cottage of the gamekeeper. At that
moment the good-wife was about putting her bread in the fire, and
Gustavus was standing by the hearth in his peasant's dress, warming
himself. The men who entered inquired for the fugitive, but before
answering the woman raised her bread shovel and struck Gustavus hastily
on the back, exclaiming:

"What are you doing here gaping at strangers? Have you never seen a man
before? Pack yourself off to the barn and go on with your threshing."

Never dreaming that the man who had been so angrily treated by a
peasant's wife could be the young lord they sought, the steward's
messengers left the house to continue their search elsewhere.

But the incident warned the gamekeeper that his guest was not safe
anywhere in that vicinity, and to get him away unobserved he hid him in a
large load of hay and drove off towards the forest. On the way some of
the Danish scouts were met, and these, having some suspicion of Swen,
began poking their lances through the hay. One of these wounded Gustavus
in the leg, but he lay silent and motionless and the scouts soon went
their way.

But the cut on the concealed man's leg bled so freely that blood soon
began to run from the cart and tinge the snow. Seeing this, Swen, fearing
that the trail of blood might betray him, opened his knife and thrust it
into the leg of his horse, so that if any one should perceive the blood
stains he could assign this as their cause.

He finally delivered his charge to the care of some loyal gamekeepers on
the edge of the forest; but these, not considering their houses safe as
hiding-places, took him into the forest, where he lay hidden for three
days under a great fallen fir tree, they bringing him food and drink.
Finding even this place insecure, he went deeper into the woods and
sought shelter under a lofty fir tree which stood on a hill in the midst
of a marsh. The place has ever since been called "The King's Height."

Finally the effort of the Danish agents to find him relaxed and his
faithful friends conducted him through the vast forests to Raettwik's
Church, at the eastern end of the great Lake Silja.

His perils were yet by no means at an end. He spoke of his purpose at
this place to an assembly of the peasants and was pleased to find that
they listened to him with willing ears. Having thus sown his first seed
in favorable soil, he proceeded to Mora on the northern end