All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he was manifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving him his fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on, leaving him in the care of Oswy. They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their own horses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, and those of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ride along the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream. So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that, gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, on their part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spur their horses on. It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of a mile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, although it must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, would have been fatal. “I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town,” xxv said the guide; “but if the abbot has no objection, I should prefer leaving them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route, which I have often travelled; it is a very good one.” “By all means,” said Dunstan, “and then we may slacken this furious pace.” They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a track of dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wild heath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this time discover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was very dry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe were intent upon hard riding. So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from which they obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and the western sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe, reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethren thanked God. “We have come to the setting sun,” said they, “and at eventide have seen light; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us.” But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, would allow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing village on the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just about to put out for an evening’s fishing, but at the earnest request of his visitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them over to the opposite coast. “The weather promises to be very clear and fine,” he said; “and we may sail across without any danger.” It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor was loosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly out to sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. At last they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-receding shore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, and pause, looking wistfully out to sea.