"Let us run and warm me." Then he ran until we came to the top of a hill whence the last glimmer of the sea over Selsea was plain before him, and there I asked him to set me down lest I tired him.
"Nay, but you keep me warm," he said.

"Tell me, are there oak trees as one goes seaward ?" "Ay, many and great ones in some places." Then he ran down the hill, and the sway of his even stride lulled me so that I dozed a little.

I roused when he stayed suddenly.
"Sit here, Oswald, for a moment, and fear nought while I rest me," he said in a strange voice.
We were halfway up a long slope and among fresh trees.

Then he lifted me and set me on the curved arm of a great oak tree, some eight feet from the ground, asking me if I was safe there.

And when I laughed and answered that I was, he set his back against the trunk, and drew his heavy seax, putting his staff alongside him, where he could reach it at once if it was needed.