y excitedly. "I can see the points of
spears right away there in the valley. Look, the sun shines upon them
and makes them glitter."

"Yes, I see now," cried Swythe excitedly. "Quick, let's try and run,
boy. The Danes! The Danes! We must get the Queen away into the woods
so as to be safe."

"Why not stop in the big house, and shut up every window and door? We
must fight. You can fight, Father Swythe?"

"I, my boy?" said the monk sadly. "Yes, with my tongue. No, I am only
a man of peace. All we can do is to fly for our lives. There are not
twenty strong fighting-men, Fred, my son, and those who are coming
against us must, from the spears and shining iron caps with wings like
the Norsemen wear, be quite a thousand. Quick! You can go faster than
I. Run on first and warn the good Queen that it is time to fly!"

Alfred nodded his head quickly and started off to run; but at that
moment it struck him that it would be foolish to run and give the alarm
without being sure. The monk had declared the force to be the enemy,
but the boy wished to see for himself, and, darting sidewise, he ran
down the hill, bearing to his right, till by stooping he could keep
under cover of the gorse-bushes and approach quite near to the coming
army.

It was a daring thing to do, for it might have ended in being made a
prisoner without the chance of giving the alarm; but the brave act
turned out to be quite wise, for when at last the boy had drawn near to
the great body of armed men and crouched lower till he found a place
through which he could peer cautiously, he sprang to his feet with a
shout of joy.

For there in front rode his father, King Ethelwulf, mounted upon a
sturdy horse, but so changed that he hardly knew him, for he was wearing
a Danish helmet ornamented with a pair of grey gull's wings, half-opened
and pointed back, while in his left hand he carried a Danish shield
painted with a black raven, and in his right was a shining double
battle-axe.

Alfred's cry was answered by a shout from the men, and Ethelwulf rode
forward to meet his son, who grasped his extended hands and sprang up to
sit in front of him upon the horse.

"Your mother--Osburga?" said the King hoarsely.

"Ill, father, because you do not come," cried the boy excitedly.

"Hah! Then she will soon be well," said the King, with a sigh of
content. "Yonder is plump little Swythe coming to welcome me, I see,"
he continued; "but where are your brothe