“Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!” while at the same moment, true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt at offence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric’s passage over the beam. Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had already stepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, and roll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, into the torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistless force. CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED. The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfred of Æscendune, whom we left in so critical a position. The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcely knew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream by the raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dear life. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and battered against the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point of succumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool, where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and his companion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which was inaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters, the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan and the other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brother was skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soon had the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raised his head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realise his position. “Where am I? What have I been doing?” he exclaimed. “You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends,” replied Dunstan, “although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are secure for the present from our foes.” They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, and the abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords and bridges. “There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will find they cannot cross it.” “Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse.” “There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and true man.” “Then lead us to it at once,” replied Dunstan. Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstan not to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid no attention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and the east was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great king, after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by the Danes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and when the wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan was recognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause.