At last Elgar said that there was a creek half a mile or less up the
river, and on the far side, where they might lie unseen perhaps. And
that would suit us well if we could get them there. And the time was
drawing on, so that we could make no delay.
Then out of a hollow tree Elgar drew oars for both boats, and we got
them out into the river, and Dudda rowing one, and Elgar the other, in
which I sat, we went to the place where they should be, keeping under
the bank next the Danes. And it was well for us that the tide was so
low, for else we should surely have been spied.
Yet we got them into the creek, Elgar making them fast so that they
would rise as the water rose. Then he said he would swim back, and if he
could manage it would raise the large boat and bring that also.
So without climbing out from under the high banks of the creek he
splashed out into the tideway, and started back.
Now Dudda and I must make our way along to the horses, and so we began
to get out of the creek, which was very deep, at this low ebb of the
water, below the level of the meadows. Dudda was up the bank first, and
looked towards Combwich. Then he dropped back suddenly, and bade me
creep up warily and look also, through the grass.
So I did, and then knew how near an escape we had had, for there was a
party of Danes, idlers as it seemed, among the burnt huts, turning over
the ashes with their spears and throwing stones into the water.
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