"I wish we had some ovens to bake this mud," said Obed, with a grim smile at his joke. "It would take a powerful large one."
There was nothing for it but dogged perseverance. It took an hour to get the oxen and cart through a bog a hundred feet across, and the appearance of the party, when they finally reached the other side, was more picturesque than attractive.
"How would Clinton get along here?" suggested Harry. "I can imagine the poor fellow's despair."
"His trousers would suffer some," said Jack. "I think it would break his heart. The sea is much nicer. If we could only go by water," and the young sailor looked down at his mud-bedraggled clothes, and his shoes caked thickly over with the tenacious mud.
"Yes, the sea would be cleaner at any rate. I agree with you there, Jack."
Arrived on the other side of the bog, they were obliged to give the tired cattle a rest. Indeed, they needed rest themselves.
At the end of the day they made an encampment. As well as they could judge, they were about eight miles from Melbourne.
"Eight miles; and how far is the whole distance?" asked Harry.
"About a hundred miles," answered Fletcher.
"At this rate, we can go through in twelve or thirteen days, then."