He clambered up on the table, and swung with the help of the curtains up to the window-shelf.  While he stood there and stuffed the matches into his bag, the crow with the white feather came in through the window.  “Well here I am at last,” said Fumle-Drumle as he lit on the table.  “I couldn’t get here any sooner because we crows have elected a new chieftain in Wind-Rush’s place.”  “Whom have you chosen?” said the boy.  “Well, we have chosen one who will not permit robbery and injustice.  We have elected Garm Whitefeather, lately called Fumle-Drumle,” answered he, drawing himself up until he looked absolutely regal.  “That was a good choice,” said the boy and congratulated him.  “You may well wish me luck,” said Garm; then he told the boy about the time they had had with Wind-Rush and Wind-Air.

During this recital the boy heard a voice outside the window which he thought sounded familiar.  “Is he here?”—­inquired the fox.  “Yes, he’s hidden in there,” answered a crow-voice.  “Be careful, Thumbietot!” cried Garm.  “Wind-Air stands without with that fox who wants to eat you.”  More he didn’t have time to say, for Smirre dashed against the window.  The old, rotten window-frame gave way, and the next second Smirre stood upon the window-table.  Garm Whitefeather, who didn’t have time to fly away, he killed instantly.  Thereupon he jumped down to the floor, and looked around for the boy.  He tried to hide behind a big oakum-spiral, but Smirre had already spied him, and was crouched for the final spring.  The cabin was so small, and so low, the boy understood that the fox could reach him without the least difficulty.  But just at that moment the boy was not without weapons of defence.  He struck a match quickly, touched the curtains, and when they were in flames, he threw them down upon Smirre Fox.  When the fire enveloped the fox, he was seized with a mad terror.  He thought no more about the boy, but rushed wildly out of the cabin.

But it looked as if the boy had escaped one danger to throw himself into a greater one.  From the tuft of oakum which he had flung at Smirre the fire had spread to the bed-hangings.  He jumped down and tried to smother it, but it blazed too quickly now.  The cabin was soon filled with smoke, and Smirre Fox, who had remained just outside the window, began to grasp the state of affairs within.  “Well, Thumbietot,” he called out, “which do you choose now:  to be broiled alive in there, or to come out here to me?  Of course, I should prefer to have the pleasure of eating you; but in whichever way death meets you it will be dear to me.”

The boy could not think but what the fox was right, for the fire was making rapid headway.  The whole bed was now in a blaze, and smoke rose from the floor; and along the painted wall-strips the fire crept from rider to rider.  The boy jumped up in the fireplace, and tried to open the oven door, when he heard a key which turned around slowly in the lock.  It must be human beings coming.  And in the dire extremity in which he found himself, he was not afraid, but only glad.  He was already on the threshold when the door opened.  He saw a couple of children facing him; but how they looked when they saw the cabin in flames, he took no time to find out; but rushed past them into the open.