Two tents were on fire and blazing high, and blackened men cut and tore their way out of them howling; and I think that more than one Dane was cut down by his comrades in the panic that fell on all.
Yet even as we passed into the cover and went our way back towards the fen, some bolder spirits began to rally, and a horn was blown.
But we were gone, leaving six slain and many more wounded among them, while not one of us was scratched.
They did not follow us, and we heard the clamour we had caused going on for some time after we had gained the fen.

Presently, too, when we reached Othery, we saw a fire signal lit to call for help, and we were well content.

Doubtless those Danes waked under arms all that night through.
After that these attacks were seldom so easy, for the Danes kept good watch enough; but they were ever the same in most ways.
Suddenly in the night would come the war cry and the wild rush of desperate men on some Danish outpost, and before they knew what to do we were away and into the fen again.

We grew to know every path well before long, and sometimes we would fall on small parties of our foes when they were on the march or raiding the cattle, and cut through them, and get back to our fastness.
Once or twice we were followed in the grey of early morning; but few Danes ever got back from that pursuit.

We would cut them off amid the peat bogs, or they would founder therein, and sink under the weight of armour.
Then they tried to force some fenmen they caught to guide them to us at Othery.