"They have disappeared."
"Only to appear with more effect; they will be creeping like snakes coming to be scotched; they won't find a man like Edric at the head of the English army now--one who always chose the 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."