"How far is it to the Danes' town, Father Govan?" I asked. "Yonder
goes my friend's ship."

"Half a day's ride, my son, and with peril for you all the way. Our
poor folk would take you for a Dane in those arms, and you have no
horse. Needs must that you seek Howel, and he will give you a guard
willingly."

Then he turned toward a great rock that lay on the beach, as if it
had fallen from the cliffs that towered above us.

"Here is the bell that you heard last night," he said.

He took a rounded stone that lay on the rock and struck it, and I
knew that the clear bell note that it gave out was indeed that
which had been my saving.

"Once I had a bell in the cote on the roof yonder," he said, "but
the Danes caught sight of it when they first passed this way, and
took it from me. Then as I sorrowed that the lonely shepherds and
fishers might no more hear its call, I seemed to see a vision of an
angel who bade me see what had been sent me instead. And when I
went out as the vision bade me, I could see nought but this rock
newly fallen, and was downcast. And so, from the cliff rolled a
little stone and smote it, and it rang, and I knew the gift. To my
hearing it has a sweeter voice than the bell made with hands."

Then he showed me his well, roofed in with flat stones because the
birds would wash in it, and so close to the sea salt that it seemed