With a cry of alarm she met him at the door, full of concern for his uncomfortable plight, yet not for a moment realizing how terrible his danger had been.
"Dear Father, where have you been ?" she cried.
"Within a hand-grip of death," he answered, with a quaver of breakdown in his voice, for it had shaken him fearfully, that long, slow torture of being sucked into the green ooze of the muskeg.
"Don't talk about it!" she said hastily.

"I will put your clean things ready.

There is happily a kettle on the boil; the men will help you to bath, and when you are in bed I will bring you tea." "Yes," he answered languidly, while she flew to get things ready, and called one of the men to assist her in putting water into the big tin pan which was the only bath the house afforded.
She was going to put the pan in the bedroom, when the man who was helping stopped her with a suggestion.

"You had better leave the pan here in front of the fire, Miss; the poor gentleman is so exhausted, you see, and the fire will be a comfort to him." "I had not thought of that, but I am quite sure you are right," she said; then got the water to a comfortable temperature, and left the men to do their best.
They were prompt and speedy.

In half an hour Mr.Selincourt was lying in bed, spent and faint it is true, but as clean as soap and water could make him.