“It is like this,” said Dauphin in answer to the boys’ astonished questioning, “this marsh is really a lake over which the moss has grown until it is now completely covered. Here, near the edge where it started in to grow and spread over the water, the old moss falling down each year has been succeeded by the new growing up, and so for ages, until there is now quite a solid covering at the surface, enough even to support the trees, but, as you see, it is only after all a floating cover to a lake. Not all over is the moss so thick as here, and there are places dangerous to try to walk over. One might easily drop through. Then—”
“Don’t, Dauph,” exclaimed Ed; “I don’t want to think of anything so horrible.”
“You had best pick your steps, then,” replied Dauphin; “if you attempt to cross the bog, or you may find something worse than hearing about it.”
“How far is it to the bottom?” asked Rob.
“We can soon see,” replied Dauphin. Cutting down a slender dead tamarack he thrust it down through the moss until it rested upon the solid sand.
“Twelve feet!” exclaimed the boys as the pole was drawn up and measured. Further out from the edge they took a measurement of sixteen feet from the mossy surface to the bottom.
There was a fine crop of cranberries on the vines, and the boys were busy from early morning until late at night with their rakes. The unaccustomed stooping all day was back-breaking work, and it was not at all pleasant to stand in cold water wet to the knees, but the two-bushel sack of berries each boy was able to carry to camp every half day made the labor endurable.
As the best patches near the camp were soon raked over, the boys would take turns searching for new places. On one of these excursions Rob had an adventure which came near to a tragedy for him, but which led to happy termination. In a cove of perhaps an acre, jutting up into one of the pine islands, lying nearly a mile out into the bog, Rob found a patch of beautiful “bell” berries, and over near the edge it appeared as though the vines had been recently disturbed. Closely scanning the land nearby he at length discovered a mound of freshly-pulled moss over which pine boughs had been carelessly strewn, as if in attempt to hide something. His curiosity was of course aroused, and digging away the moss he came upon several sacks filled with berries. Evidently somebody had been there at work. He determined to carry one of the sacks of berries to camp with him, and then get the boys and hunt for the trespassers. Instead of returning in the way he came, Rob struck out straight across the bog, his mind full of excited imaginings about his find. Suddenly he found himself dropping, and like a flash he realized that he had come upon a thin place in the bog, and was falling through to the cold, dark depths of the lake beneath. Instinctively he had thrown himself forward, with arms out-stretched, his hands clutching the moss. This stayed him for a moment, but the heavy sack of berries was upon him, forcing his head and shoulders down into the moss. He could feel himself sinking; the water seemed to be rising about his face. He thought of how the boys would miss him, of their fruitless search, for the moss would soon close over him leaving no mark to show where he had gone down. Then the thought came that he must not die; that he might work backward from under the sack and get free. It was a desperate struggle, and before he succeeded his face was under water, and his strength nearly exhausted for lack of breath. But at last he was free, and throwing his arms up over the sack he raised his head, regained his breath, and rested. Slowly he pulled his body up, and using the sinking sack for a foothold, he threw himself sprawling upon the track over which he had come. He crawled in the moss for several yards before he dared to rise to his feet and resume his journey to the camp.
“I should like to see that lake drained,” said Dauphin, as Rob told of his narrow escape. “Think of the different kinds of animals that have probably left their bones on the sands of that lake bottom in the ages past.”
“Well, I’m glad that your future scientist will not have the pleasure of classifying my bones, anyway,” replied Rob.