A DANGEROUS JOURNEY.
"I think," remarked Alzura, one day toward the end of June, "I'll get the sergeant to put me in irons."
"Why?" I asked in surprise.
"Because sitting here and looking at the land is driving me crazy."
"Then don't look at it."
"I can't help it, and that's the truth. Wouldn't it be grand if we could only cross that morass safely!"
"But we can't!"
"No," said he; "but suppose we could? Suppose there came a night when it was just dark enough to hide us, and yet light enough to show us the track? Wouldn't it be a feather in our caps if we could get back safely to Miller?"
"It would; but we should lose our nerve in that horrible swamp, even if we reached it."
"Very likely; and our lives too. Let's go back to the hut."