When they had come into the yard they saw a great fire flaring up
against the sky in the north. They hastened back into the house
and cried out: "Come out! Come out! Solberga parsonage is on
fire!"

There were many folks at the feast, and those who had a horse
leapt upon his back and made haste to the parsonage; but those who
had to run with their own swift feet were there almost as soon.

When the people came to the parsonage nobody was to be seen, nor
was there any sign of movement; all seemed to be asleep, though
the flames rose high into the air.

Yet it was none of the houses that burned, but a great pile of
wood and straw and faggots that had been stacked against the wall
of the old dwelling. It had not been burning long. The flames had
done no more than blacken the sound timber of the wall and melt
the snow on the thatched roof. But now they had begun to take hold
of the thatch.

Everyone saw at once that this was arson. They began to wonder
whether Herr Arne and his wife were really asleep, or whether some
evil had befallen them.

But before the rescuers entered the house they took long poles and
pulled away the burning faggots from the wall and clambered up to
the roof to tear off the thatch, which had begun to smoke and was
ready to catch fire.