[The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle]@TWC D-Link bookThe Hound of the Baskervilles CHAPTER 14 27/32
From the end of it a small wand planted here and there showed where the path zigzagged from tuft to tuft of rushes among those green-scummed pits and foul quagmires which barred the way to the stranger.
Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay and a heavy miasmatic vapour onto our faces, while a false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in soft undulations around our feet.
Its tenacious grip plucked at our heels as we walked, and when we sank into it it was as if some malignant hand was tugging us down into those obscene depths, so grim and purposeful was the clutch in which it held us.
Once only we saw a trace that someone had passed that perilous way before us.
From amid a tuft of cotton grass which bore it up out of the slime some dark thing was projecting.
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