Then I ran to the arms that were held out for me, forgetting for the moment the one who had brought me back to them, and left him standing there.
Then the man who had saved me turned after one long look at that meeting, and I think that he was going his way in silence, content with that he had done, but my father saw it and called to him:
"Friend, stay, for I have not thanked you, and I hold that there is reward due to you for what you have brought back to me."
"It was a chance meeting, Thane, and I am glad to have been of use. No need to speak of reward, for it is indeed enough to have seen the boy home safely."
"Why, then," said my father, "I cannot have a stranger pass my hall at this time in the evening, when it is too late to reach the town in safety. Here you must at least lodge for the night, or Eastdean will be shamed. Your voice tells me that you are a stranger--but maybe you have your men waiting for you at hand? There will be room for them also."
For there was that in the tones of the voice of this man which told my father that here he had no common wanderer.
"I am alone," my friend said. "But your men seek the little one even yet in the forest. Will you not call them in?"
My father looked at the man for a moment, and smiled.
"Ay, I forgot in my joy. They are well-nigh as anxious as I have been."
Then he took down the great horn that hung by the door, and wound the homing call that brings all within its hearing back to the hall, and its hoarse echoes went across the silent woods until it was answered by the other horns that passed on the message until the last sounds came but faintly to us. I heard men cheering also, for they knew by the token that all was well. My father had me in his arms all this time, standing in the door.