"Now, let me slip this over your arm.

That's right; we've got you safe enough, and they are English ropes, strong enough to pull a carthorse out of a bear pit.

You mustn't struggle, though, however much you feel like it." "Phil, can you reach the oar ?" Katherine cried, her voice hoarse, for she could hardly endure the strain of the waiting.
"Yes," said the boy, stooping now and touching the perilous bridge which had carried him to the comparative safety of the clump of rushes.
"Then lay it across the clump, and well under the man's hands; keep it as firm as you can for him, while I haul on the rope.

Now then----!" With all her strength Katherine hauled at the rope.

She was sitting now with her feet braced against the thwarts, and with every muscle tense she strained and strained until the perspiration streamed down her face, and the hot air of the swamp as it rose up seemed to choke her.
[Illustration: With all her strength Katherine hauled at the rope.] "Hooray, he's coming!" yelled Phil, and Katherine, who had been almost fainting, gathered her courage for yet another effort.
Phil was helping now, but, best of all, the poor victim of the muskeg was doing his share also, and at the end of a quarter of an hour of pulling, tugging, and straining he was on his knees in the clump of rushes beside Phil, and Katherine was able to rest her bleeding hands and plan the next stage of that perilous journey.
But a few moments of rest that poor mud-coated wretch must have before taking any more risks, so she said cheerfully: "Now, stay as you are for five or ten minutes, just to get your strength back a little, and I will shift my cargo to accommodate you, for you will need a reserved seat, I fancy.