“This won’t do,” he muttered and started to go back, but only ended by getting in deeper until he was up to his knees. He was now thoroughly alarmed and came to a standstill almost in despair.
Had it been light Sam might have seen that not far away was a firm stretch of ground leading up to the hill. But he could not see this and so deemed it best to get back to where he had first landed.
Retracing his steps was not easy and once he fell, covering his arms and breast with mud. When he did get back to the wild plantains he was a sight to behold and it took him some time to regain his wind.
“I’m a prisoner on this bit of marshland—that’s all there is to it,” he mused, as he flung himself down near the edge of the lake. “I suppose I’ve got to make the best of it until morning. But how am I going to pass the night?”
At the risk of stirring up some of the dreaded crabs, he waded into the lake and washed himself of the mud. Then he wrung out his jacket and hung it up to dry. Fortunately it was a hot night, so there was no danger of catching cold.
The squall had driven away a good many of the mosquitoes, which infest Lake Maracaibo almost as numerously as they do Staten Island, but now the little pests began to return and presently Sam found himself kept busy by them and also by a species of gnats which are equally annoying. To save himself from their bites he tied his wet handkerchief over his head and neck.
In planning for the trip Mark had mentioned how handy it would be for each to take along a waterproof match-safe and Sam had provided himself with one of these. Satisfied that he would have to remain where he was for some hours at the least, he hunted around for some dry grass and plantain leaves and proceeded to build himself a smudge fire. This burnt slowly because of the dampness and the thick smoke soon put the most of the gnats and mosquitoes to flight.
The fire, dim as it was, gave an air of cheerfulness to the spot, and Sam felt much better as he watched it glow up and then droop. He did not let it go out, but kept piling on the grass, which he tore up in clods with ease. This grass is of the wire variety, very strong, and is much used by the natives in making baskets and various household articles.
“I heard something, what was it?”