Pep looked dubiously at the prospect before them. The large area surrounding the island was at places covered with water several feet in depth, at others with a sticky mass of black mire. There might be some more secure way of reaching it from the other side of the swamp, but this would necessitate a three or four miles’ tramp.
“I’ve a good mind to try it,” remarked Pep, after a brief thinking spell. “See here, Vic, there seems to be more of mushy mud from here across than at the first place where we struck the swamp. There’s clumps of flag roots here and there, and I think we can get across.”
“I think so, too,” responded Vic. “We can try it, anyhow.”
The boys divested themselves of their shoes and stockings, rolled up their trousers above their knees, selected two long stout poles from the debris of a fallen tree, and started forth on their expedition, Pep in the lead.
It was no easy nor pleasant task they had chosen. They discovered this before they were half-way across the swampy stretch of ground. There were places where a misstep sent them waist deep into a spongy mass of rotted bog grass. At others a jump to a seemingly solid clump of roots sent the water spurting up about them in cascades.
Twice Vic got mired in the mud and Pep had to pull him out. They were fully an hour getting to the edge of the island. Thus far they had caught no sight of anybody about the place. They were so exhausted, that as they reached dry land at last they threw themselves down upon the ground, panting for breath and completely exhausted.
“That was a hard pull,” spoke Pep, at length. “Say,” he added, pointing, “just as we calculated there is a kind of a road, or rather half solid path, leading from the island across that other side of the bog.”
“I see it,” responded Vic and he got up and ran to the outside of the high, board enclosure. “Pep! Pep!” he instantly whispered, beckoning.
In an instant both lads were peering through a broad crack between two boards. Their hearts fluttered and their eyes distended. An old man was setting up some painted scenery screens. Just beyond him was a kind of shed, or covered stall. Within it, feeding on some hay, was a camel.
“Oh,” gasped Vic, tumultuously, “it must be mine!”