"Ez I think I told you before," said Shif'less Sol, "I'm a mighty good runner. But thar are some things I kin do besides runnin'. Runnin' all night, even when you slow up a bit, gits stale. Your mind grows mighty tired o' it even if your feet do plant themselves one after another jest like a machine. Now, my mind is sayin' enough, so I think, Henry, we might git through this swamp, leavin' no trail, o' course, an' rest on some good solid little bit o' land surrounded by a sea o' mud."
"That's right, Sol. It's what we must do, but we must cross to the other side of the creek before we find our oasis."
"Oasis! What's an oasis?"
"It's something, surrounded by something else," Henry explained. "Come on now, Sol. Watch your footing. Don't get yourself any muddier than you can help."
"I'm follerin', steppin' right in your tracks, over which the soft mud draws the minute my foot has left 'em. I'm glad thar are lots o' bushes here, 'cause they'll hide us from any warriors who may be in advance o' the main band."
The creek was not as deep and wide as the other, and they crossed it without trouble. Two hundred yards further on they found a tiny island of firm ground set thick with saplings and bushes, among which they crawled and lay down, until regular breathing came back. Then they scraped the mud off their moccasins and leggings and sat up on the hard earth.
"An' so this is an oasis?" said Shif'less Sol.
"Yes, solid ground, surrounded for a long distance by mud."
"An' with saplin's an' bushes so thick that the sharpest eyed warrior ever born couldn't see into it. Henry, I'm thinkin' that we've found another little home."
"One that hides us from people passing by, but that does not put a roof over our heads or give us food to eat."