Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - The Zather Dale.
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I slept an hour, perhaps two, and was
awakened by a loud bawling from the high
road. I started up: it was twilight, the night
at that period is not darker – it was about one
o’clock. I heard the door shaken roughly; a
deep manly voice shouted aloud, and there was
a hammering with a cudgel against the planks
of the yard-gate. Was it an intoxicated or a
mad man that was to be let in? The gate was
now opened, but many words were not
exchanged. I heard a woman scream at the top
of her voice from terror. There was now a great
bustling about; they ran across the yard in
wooden shoes; the bellowing of cattle and the
rough voices of men were mingled together. I
sat on the edge of the bed. Out or in! what
was to be done? I looked from the window;
in the road there was nothing to be seen, and it
still rained. All at once some one came up
stairs with heavy footsteps: he opened the door
of the room adjoining mine – now he stood
still! I listened – a large iron bolt fastened
my door. The stranger now walked across the
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