Now, too, did he begin a series of skirmishes; attacking the enemy without ceasing, wherever he found any parties or camps accessible to his attempts. Whether his object was achieved, or did he meet with repulsion, he retired with a celerity that baffled pursuit to his unknown asylum. The Northmen became terror-stricken at the ravages which this secret foe was making upon them, and finally came to believe, with the superstition of the age, that the attacks were of a supernatural character. Gradually the king extended his assaults, harassing the Danes with hostility in a distant quarter as well as those near. By day and by night, at dawn, in the evening twilight, from woods and marshes, he was ever rushing on the Northmen with all the advantages of selection and surprise. But still the provisions grew less, and the king was sore put for supplies. One day, while it was yet so cold that it was frozen, the king’s people had gone out to get provender, fish or fowl or whatsoever they should happen upon, while Alfred himself remained in the cottage. The king was discouraged. Despite the successful issue of his forays against the Norsemen, they still remained in such numbers that it seemed an impossible task to ever rid the land of them. At last he took from his bosom the little manual which he always carried with him, and began reading one of the Psalms of David for comfort. A knock at the door brought Ethelfleda and Egwina from an adjoining room. “Open, my daughter,” said the king. “But it may not be one of thy followers,” said the girl, dubiously. “Open; keep not one without who may need shelter from the wind. Piercing is the blast. Open unto him whomever it may be.” Ethelfleda opened the door not widely, as was the wont of the Saxons, for she feared that one might be without who sought the king. “Bread, maiden! Give me bread to eat for Christ His sake,” pleaded a man who stood there. He was poorly clad and he shivered in the chill breath of the March wind. “Enter, in His name,” cried the king, heartily. “Enter and warm thyself by the fire.” Murmuring blessings, the man crept close to the fire and huddled over the blaze. “Food for him,” commanded the king to Ethelfleda. “But, my king,” remonstrated Egwina, speaking in a low tone, “there is but one small loaf of bread which is all the food that there is left. Wilt thou that it be set before the man, and thereby leave thee naught to strengthen thee for the sally to-night?” “Give it anyway, little one,” bade the king. “We have eaten to-day; it may be that he hath not. The poor man looks as if he needed it.” Thereupon he returned to his reading, while the maidens served the beggar. Hungrily did he eat. Soon the last morsel of bread disappeared before the voracious appetite. Then he arose, gathered the folds of his mantle more closely around him, and turned to the girls.