a, however,
was too warmly interested in my behalf to take it in this way. As soon
as he missed me he turned about, and, perceiving my critical position,
shouted at the top of his voice,

"Sir, you can't go that way!"

[Illustration: AN ICELANDIC BOG.]

"No," said I, in rather a desponding tone, "I see I can't."

"Don't try it, sir!" cried Zoega; "you'll certainly sink if you do!"

"I'll promise you that, Zoega," I answered, looking gloomily toward
the dry land, toward which my horse was now headed, plunging
frantically in a labyrinth of tufts, his head just above the ground.

"Sir, it's very dangerous!" shouted Zoega.

"Any sharks in it?" I asked.

"No, sir; but I don't see your horse!"

"Neither do I, Zoega. Just sing out when he blows!"

But the honest Icelander saw a better method than that, which was to
dismount from his own horse, and jump from tuft to tuft until he got
hold of my bridle. With it of course came the poor animal, which by
hard pulling my trusty guide soon succeeded in getting on dry land.
Meantime I discovered a way of getting out myself by a complicated
system of jumps, and presently we all stood in a group, Zoega scraping
the mud off the sides of my trembling steed, while I ventured to
remark that it was "a little boggy in that direction."

"Yes, sir," said Zoega; "that was the reason I was going round."

And a very sensible reason it was too, as I now cheerfully admitted.
After a medicinal pull at the brandy we once more proceeded on our
way.

I mentioned the fact that there are dry bog-formations on the sides of
some of the hills. It should also be noted that the wet bogs are not
always in the lowest places. Frequently they are found on elevated
grounds, and even high up in the mountains. Approaching a region of
this kind, when the tufts are nearly on a level with the eye, the
effect is very peculiar. It looks as if an army of grim old Norsemen,
on their march through the wilderness, had suddenly sunk to their
necks in the treacherous earth, and still stood in that position with
their shaggy heads bared to the tempests. Often the traveler detects
something like features, and it would not be at all difficult, of a
moonlight night, to mistake them for ghostly warriors struggling to
get out on dry land. Indeed, the simple-minded peasants, with their
accustomed fertility of imagination, have invested them with life, and
relate many wonderful stories about their pranks of dark and s