I'm not knowin' what to do." For a little while he hesitated, then he plunged out upon the edge of the marsh.

He was nearly swept from his feet, and to recover his breath he was forced to retreat again to the woods.

Three times he tried to face the storm-swept marsh, but each time was sent staggering back to shelter.

It was a task beyond the strength and endurance of so young a lad, and utterly exhausted and bitterly disappointed, he sat down upon the trunk of a fallen tree to rest.
"I never can make un whilst the nasty weather lasts," he acknowledged.
"I'm fair scrammed and I'll have to wait for the wind to ease before I tries un again." He could scarce restrain the tears.

It was a bitter disappointment.