lost. It
was all that I could do to keep myself from crying out to him; but that
would have betrayed us also, and, with us, the hope of our ambush. So we
must set our teeth and watch him go.

Then a Dane came to the edge of the high bank and saw him, and at the
same moment was himself seen. The Dane shouted, and Elgar stopped
paddling with his hands and keeping his head above water.

Now we looked to see him swim back to this bank, and began to wonder if
the enemy would follow him and so find us. And for one moment I believe
he meant to do so, and then, brave man as he was, gave himself away to
save us; for he stretched himself out once more and began to swim
leisurely downstream, never looking at the Danes again; for now half a
dozen were there and watching him, calling, too, that he should come
ashore, as one might guess. But Elgar paid no heed to them, and swam on.

They began to throw stones, and one cast a spear at him, but that fell
short. Then the bank hid him from us; but we saw a Dane fixing arrow to
bowstring, and saw him shoot; but he missed, surely, for he took another
arrow and ran on down the bank.

Then Dudda pulled me by the arm, and motioned me to follow him, and I
saw no more.

Now the creek wherein we were ran inland for a quarter mile that we
could see, ever bending round so that our boats were hidden from the
side where the Danes were. Up that creek we ran, or rather paddled,
therefore, knee deep in mud, but quite unseen by any but the great erne
that fled over us crying.

Hard work it was, but before the creek ended we had covered half a mile
away from danger, and looking back through the grass along the bank
could see the Danes no longer. Yet we had no surety that they could not
see us, and therefore crawled yet among grass and thistles, along such
hollows as we could find.

At last we dared stand up, and still we could see no Danes as we looked
back. And then we grew bolder and walked leisurely, as fishers might,
not daring to run, across to that hut where the horses were. And
reaching that our adventure was ended, for we were safe, and believed
ourselves unnoticed if not unseen, for there was no reason why the Danes
should think aught of two thralls, as we seemed, crossing the marsh a
mile away, and quietly, even if they spied us.

After we reached our horses, there is nothing to tell of our ride back
to the bishop. We overtook him before dark, where his men were halted
two miles from