"I'm coming," muttered Shadrack.
It took them a half-hour to cross the field; then they sat on the fence exhausted. No lightning came to show them the way, so they climbed the fence, crossed another road, and entered a second field. The mud here was worse.
"Bogged!" exclaimed Shadrack.
They retreated to the road.
"Let's follow this road," suggested Tom. "It seems to go in the general direction of the railroad tracks."
"Probably goes to a farmhouse," replied Wilson.
"Suits me exactly," said Shadrack.
During the next twenty minutes they made their way slowly along the road, slipping in the mud, sometimes falling. Twice Tom went down on his hands and knees. Shadrack sprawled face downward, and got up muttering something about "eating the filthy stuff."
Ahead of them a dog commenced to bark; then a door opened, and a man stood looking out.
"Call your dog off," yelled Wilson.