or the river.
They returned in a few minutes, bearing a light boat, almost like a
British coracle, on which they instantly embarked, and a push or two
with the pole sent them noiselessly across the moat.

They landed, made fast the boat, and searched in the darkness for the
door; it was an old portal, almost disused, for it was only built that
there might be a retreat in any such pressing emergency as might easily
arise in those unsettled times; the holly bushes in front, and the thick
branches of dependent ivy, concealed its existence from any person
beyond the moat, and it had not even been seen by the watchful eye of
Ragnar.

Alfred, however, had but recently made use of the door, when seeking
bunches of holly wherewith to deck the board on the occasion of the
feast given to King Edwy, and he had omitted to relock it on his return,
an omission which now seemed to him of providential arrangement.

He had, therefore, only to turn the rusty latch as noiselessly as might
be, and the door slowly opened. The key was in the lock, on the inside.

Entering cautiously, taking off their heavy shoes and leaving them in
the doorway, they ascended a flight of steps which terminated in front
of a door which entered the chapel underneath the bell cot, while
another flight led upwards to the gallery, from which all the principal
chambers on the first floor opened.

Arriving at this upper floor, Alfred listened intently for one moment,
and hearing only the sounds of revelry from beneath, he opened the door
gently, and saw the passage lie vacant before him.

He passed along it until he came to the door of his father's chamber,
feeling the whole time that his life hung on a mere thread, upon the
chance that Ragnar and his warriors might remain out of the way, and
that no one might be near to raise the alarm. With nearly two hundred
inmates this was but a poor chance, but Alfred could dare all for his
brother. He committed himself, therefore, to God's protection, and went
firmly on till he reached the door.

He opened it with trembling eagerness, and the whole scene as we have
already described it was before him. Elfric sat up in the bed, uttering
the cries which had pierced the outer air. When Alfred entered he did
not seem to know him, but saluted him as "Dunstan." His cries had become
too familiar to the present inmates of the hall for this to attract
attention. Alfred closed the door.

"It is I, Elfric!--I, your brother Alfr