which had been made in the Danish camp concerning their home and the
circumstances of St. Brice's fatal night.

"Still, it may be our father and his men; they may have worn the
spoils of the enemy."

The spoils generally went the other way, Alfgar thought, but did not
say.

They crossed the ford in silence, intent only on reaching home. For a
long time they could follow the trail of the horsemen.

"Who can lead them?" said Bertric, as they bounded onward. "They seem
to know the country."

A sad and harrowing suspicion had filled Alfgar's mind, that these men
might be deputed to avenge the fiery death of his father--and to
avenge it, probably, on the very people who would have died to prevent
it.

But the one desire uppermost in the minds of the whole party was to
hasten home. They feared every moment that they might see the bright
flame through the trees, or that the wind might bring them the tidings
that they were all too late--too late to save those whom they loved
from outrage and death.

So they continued running, or walking when breath failed, at the
utmost speed they could command, and just as the sun set they arrived
at the crest of a hill, from which they could see the hall.