Without a word the man disappeared into the house. For one dreadful instant, Madge thought he did not intend to help her; she thought he must believe that she was an impostor and was making up her story. The next minute the man returned, wearing a pair of high rubber hoots and carrying a dark lantern and a heavy rope.
"Don't be frightened," he said kindly to her as she walked wearily after him. "People often lose their way in this marsh after dark. We'll soon find your friend."
But to himself Judge Arthur Hilliard asked the question: "What in the world are two young girls doing alone on this dangerous shore at such an hour of the night?"
It was well that Phyllis remembered Madge's order, else they might have had some trouble in locating her. As soon as Phyllis saw the friendly light from the oncoming lantern she called at the top of her lungs: "Here I am! Here I am!"
"Keep perfectly still!" Judge Hilliard commanded. "I'll have you out in a short time." He waded into the marsh, his high boots protecting him from the black ooze. When he was about five yards from Phil he flung her the rope. "Now work your way along toward us," he directed. Phyllis obeyed his command and in an incredibly short time was safe on dry land, her shoes heavy with mud.
"It is bad enough to be lost," declared Phil as she thanked the stranger, "but it is worse to be not only lost, but stuck in the mud as well."
"You were in a most unpleasant, though I can hardly say a dangerous plight," returned the stranger. "Can I be of further service to you?"
"Would you—could you tell us where we can get a drink of water?" asked Madge. "We are so tired and thirsty."
"My name is Arthur Hilliard," returned the man. "If you will come to my house, my mother will be glad to offer you refreshment."
"Thank you," bowed Madge sedately. "We will go with you."