Much scared, he tried to wade out, but could only flounder to a tussock of grass, and cling there, while he endeavored to kick his legs free.

He got them out, but struggled in vain to coil them up or to hoist his heavy body upon the very small island in this sea of mud.

Down they splashed again; and Sam gave a dismal groan as he thought of the leeches and water-snakes which might be lying in wait below.

Visions of the lost cow also flashed across his agitated mind, and he gave a despairing shout very like a distracted "Moo!" Few people passed along the lane, and the sun was setting, so the prospect of a night in the marsh nerved Sam to make a frantic plunge toward the bulrush island, which was nearer than the mainland, and looked firmer than any tussock round him.

But he failed to reach this haven of rest, and was forced to stop at an old stump which stuck up, looking very like the moss-grown horns of the "dear departed." Roosting here, Sam began to shout for aid in every key possible to the human voice.