By good luck, rather than by any calculation on his part, he landed on a shaking hummock, and found that Helen had plunged into the watery morass.
Dropping the bag, he reached down, grasped her about the waist and dragged her from the clutching grip of the swamp.
"We'll have to go back," were the girl's first words, as he held her on the narrow foothold.
"Why?" he asked.
She waved her hand in the direction toward which they were going.
An open space, clear of trees and bushes, lay before them—a veritable quagmire with not a place in all its extent where they could set their feet.
They would have to go back! With Brady and Grove on one side of them, and this impassable bog on the other, it looked as though they had been caught between two fires.