“Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the snare is broken, and we are delivered,” said Dunstan. “Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven and earth,” replied Father Guthlac. Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken, he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish to return home, but his host would not permit him, saying he should have to answer to Dunstan some day for his guest. The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet not unpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods and marshes around, full of animal life. Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove his cattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, and Alfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest. So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked on the hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted him out, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of the clear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while the breeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep. At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of such inferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place, contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then there was far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had no cause to complain of the cowherd’s table. Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himself with the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longing earnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, they heard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared in sight. Alfred rose up eagerly. “Are they safe?” he cried. “Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers got to the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above.” “Did they try to follow?” “They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage.” Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he looked up in the face of the guide. “Will you guide us home?” he said. “Yes,” was the reply; “the holy abbot particularly desired me to return to his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and if you will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey to Æscendune, for we are not worth following.” “Then let us start tomorrow morning,” said Alfred, longing to be once more in his old father’s presence, and to cheer his mother’s heart.