m.

"What! you, Higbald!" he cried.

"You shall escape no more," cried his late gaoler, and brought his axe
down with a mighty rush. Alfgar leapt nimbly aside, and before his
bulky but clumsy antagonist could recover his guard, passed his keen
sword beneath the left arm, through the body, and the giant staggered
and fell, a bloody foam rising to his lips, as he quivered in the
agonies of death.

All was again silent. The Danes, discomfited for the moment, having
lost half their number, had retired, probably waiting for
reinforcements, and the victor addressed Edmund.

"Look," he cried; "this man is a servant of Edric Streorn."

"Is it true, fellow?" said Edmund sternly.

"What if it is? I am dying now, and it cannot matter to me."

The last words were interrupted by a convulsive struggle.

"Art thou an Englishman or a Dane?" said the Etheling, bending over
the dying ruffian in his anxiety to learn the whole truth.

"What is that to thee?"

"Much, if thou wouldst escape death."

"Escape death! I cannot. Neither wilt thou escape Edric Streorn, and I
shall not die unavenged. Ah! young springal, thou wilt not escape
again. To think that thy puny hand should give Higbald his death blow!
Ah, I am choked!"

Alfgar's sword had pierced his lungs, and a gush of blood rushing to
the mouth stopped the breath of Higbald for ever.

"I have brought the foe upon you. We are tracked," said Alfgar. "Edric
and the Danes are in alliance."

"But they have not taken this place yet; neither shall they, by God's
help! Ha! was that lightning? Nay, it is winter."

A sudden burst of fiery light illuminated the scene, and the defenders
looked forth, in spite of their danger, from their fortifications. The
little church of St. Michael burst forth into billowing eddies of
smoke and flame.

"This is a grievous sight, to see the place we had dedicated to God
destroyed by the bloody heathen. O that He would stretch forth His
hand as in the days of old!"

"Would I had but two hundred men; I would fall upon the villains in
the rear, and leave not one," said Edmund.

"Look--the farm buildings!" cried little Hermann.

"The poor horses and oxen!" cried the Lady Bertha.

"They are safe," said Edmund. "You may hear the trampling of hoofs
even now. The fools of Danes are hunting them in all directions. I do
not think they will catch many."

Lights appeared in two or three places, and soon it became evident
that the ruthless foe had