"May the bald devil show it to thee! we will not," answered the kinsman, assuming an air of dogged resolution.
"Why should we?" said the weaver--"the sack is ours, not thine."
"Thou shalt show it to me, thou good-for-nothing drunkard," said she, giving the tall kinsman a blow under his chin, and pushing her way to the sack. The kinsman and the weaver, however, stood her attack courageously, and drove her back; but had hardly time to recover themselves, when the woman darted once more into the passage, this time with a poker in her hand. In no time she gave a cut over her husband's fingers, another on the weaver's hand, and stood beside the sack.
"Why did we let her go?" said the weaver, coming to his senses.
"Why did we indeed? and why didst thou?" said the kinsman.
"Your poker seems to be an iron one!" said the weaver, after keeping silent for a while, and scratching his back. "My wife bought one at the fair last year; well, hers is not to be compared--does not hurt at all."
The triumphant dame, in the meanwhile, set her candle on the floor, opened the sack, and looked into it.
But her old eyes, which had so quickly caught sight of the sack, for this time deceived her. "Why, here lies a whole boar!" cried she, clapping her hands with delight.
"A boar, a whole boar! dost hear?" said the weaver, giving the kinsman a push. "And thou alone art to blame?"
"What's to be done?" muttered the kinsman, shrugging his shoulders.
"How, what? why are we standing here quietly? we must have the sack back again! Come!"
"Away, away with thee! it is our boar!" cried the weaver, advancing.
"Away, away with thee, she devil! it is not thy property," said the kinsman.
The old hag once more took up the poker, but at the same moment Choop stepped out of the sack, and stood in the middle of the passage stretching his limbs like a man just awake from a long sleep.
The kinsman's wife shrieked in terror, while the others opened their mouths in amazement.
"What did she say, then, the old fool--that it was a boar?"
"It's not a boar!" said the kinsman, straining his eyes.
"Just see, what a man some one has thrown into the sack," said the weaver, stepping back in a fright. "They may say what they will--the evil spirit must have lent his hand to the work; the man could never have gone through a window."