the house the trees ceased, and a rank vegetation of reeds
and rushes took the place of the bushes, and the ground
became soft and swampy. A little further pools of stagnant
water appeared among the rushes, and the path abruptly
stopped at the edge of a stagnant swamp, though the passage
could be followed by the eye for some distance among the
tall rushes. The hut, in fact, stood on a hummock in the
midst of a wide swamp where the water sometimes deepened
into lakes connected by sluggish streams.

On the open spaces of water herons stalked near the
margin, and great flocks of wild-fowl dotted the surface.
Other signs of life there were none, although a sharp eye
might have detected light threads of smoke curling up here
and there from spots where the ground rose somewhat above
the general level. These slight elevations, however, were not
visible to the eye, for the herbage here grew shorter than on
the lower and wetter ground, and the land apparently
stretched away for a vast distance in a dead flat--
a rush-covered swamp, broken only here and there
by patches of bushes and low trees.

The little hut was situated in the very heart of the fen
country, now drained and cultivated, but in the year 870
untouched by the hand of man, the haunt of wild-fowl and
human fugitives. At the door of the hut stood a lad some
fourteen years old. His only garment was a short sleeveless
tunic girded in at the waist, his arms and legs were bare;
his head was uncovered, and his hair fell in masses on his
shoulders. In his hand he held a short spear, and leaning