he sleepiest and deafest
men for sentinels. Ah, well! he is openly with the enemy now; I only
hope he will come within swing of my battle-axe tomorrow.

"Ah! There they are."

"Where?" inquired two or three low voices eagerly.

"Creeping up the slope; now get your arrows to your ears; take the
opposite men when they arise."

A few moments, during which men could hear their own hearts beat, when
up rose the Danes from the grass like spectres, and rushed for the
mound. A storm of arrows met them, to which nearly half succumbed.

Swinging his axe, Edmund, followed, by the rest, jumped from the mound
to meet the survivors; numbers were nearly equal, the English now
slightly superior. Each man met his individual foe. Young Hermann's
sword broke against a Danish axe; he rushed in and got within the
swing of the weapon; both wrestled for the deadly steel, they fell,
rolled over and over on the grass; at length Hermann grasped his
opponent's throat like a vice with his mailed hand, and held till the
arms of his foe hung nerveless by the side and the face grew black,
when, disengaging his right hand, he found his dagger, and drove it to
the victim's heart.

"Well done!" said Edmund; "you are the last, Hermann; Alfgar has
finished some time; we have been watching you; this little beginning
promises luck tomorrow.

"You and I must retire now, Alfgar.

"Good night, Hermann; good night, my men; wipe your swords on the
grass; keep them bright."

The morning dawned bright and radiant; and with the first appearance
of the sun the horns of the English blew their shrill summons, and the
whole army awoke as a man. A hurried meal was partaken of, hurried of
necessity, for the Danes were already emerging from their camp, and
forming their lines in order of battle. They evidently meant, as
usual, to take the initiative; in fact, in the recent reign, had they
not done so, there would never have been any fighting at all.

Every one, both friend and foe, expected that Edmund would await the
onset in his entrenched camp. Great, therefore, was the surprise, when
he led his forces without the entrenchments, with the observation that
the breasts of Englishmen were their best bulwarks.

He knew his forces, that they had confidence in him; and he could not
have shown better his confidence in them, and his feeling that the
time had now at length come to assume the offensive.

Canute was doubtless somewhat surprised, yet he was learning