"I go, then, my lord; and when thou hearest the cry of the curlew repeated four times, know it will be the signal of our approach, and let Deva, there, light a brand, that we may see where to enter."
So saying, Ceolwulf disappeared in the darkness, and Deva prepared to attend to the fire, banking it up to burn some time, but so as not to give much light.
It did not take the hardy old Jute long to reach the encampment of his allies. They had already got things into order, and, under the practised hand and eye of Athelhune, a fairly defensive breastwork of timber surrounded the little clearing.
Four men also were posted as sentries, and Ceolwulf was challenged by a rough voice before he could get nearer than two hundred yards of the camp, and so well did the man understand his duty that he did this without himself giving any clue to his whereabouts, having concealed himself in the brushwood, so as to command the only natural approach.
"'Tis a friend, man—Ceolwulf; let me pass."
On hearing and recognising his voice, the sentry emerged from his ambush.
"Is all well?" said Ceolwulf.
"Aye, aye, there's naught stirring; but we are all grievous hungry," grumbled the man.
"Thou shalt have food enough soon," and Ceolwulf strode past to the encampment. Here he found all, excepting another man on guard at the entrance, were sound asleep. Wulfstan was lying near Malachi, and Stuff was sleeping near a burly Boseham man, who had taken the precaution to tie a thong tightly to the boy's hands, and allowing sufficient play for the boy to turn over, had made the other end fast to his own wrist.
Ceolwulf went up to Athelhune, and, shaking him vigorously, soon woke him up.