carry the deer across
that stretch of green turf, and thence--probably beyond all chance of
recovery.

Bob took a careful sight this time. Then he fired. Instantly the deer
sprang upwards into the air, gave two marvellous leaps forward, and then
fell in a lifeless heap right in the centre of the paddock.

Bob gave a cry of exultation and ran forwards towards his bag. So
excited was he now that he did not notice how the turf shivered under
his feet when first he stepped upon the edge of the clearing. He had no
thoughts for aught else but the triumph of his stalking. But suddenly,
when he was within a few yards of the deer, he felt one foot sink
beneath him. For a moment he did not give the incident any serious
thought, but placed his other foot a little beyond, where the turf
seemed firmer. But the next step sunk deeper than the first, and at each
effort to release the one the other sunk farther.

Then a cold sweat broke out all over the lad's body. He realised the
plight that he was in, for the green sward was no more than a thin
covering of turf that concealed a great muskeg--a lake of liquid mud
such as has been known to swallow men, horses--nay, even a herd of
buffalo, without leaving a trace of the hapless victims that have
disappeared within that ever-hungry throat.

Bob stood still in horror at his terrible discovery.

He looked round him. There was not a sign of anything that might aid
him--not a log, not so much as a twig. Nothing was at hand but the grass
that a moment before had looked so fresh and alluring, but which now
seemed to suggest all that was ugly and treacherous. Even the slain deer
was already beginning to yield to the suction from beneath.

If ever Bob was near to utter despair, it was at that moment. He was
over the ankles in mud, and he could feel himself gradually sinking,
while the slimy mass seemed to cling to his limbs and drag him downwards
with irresistible force.

Once he thought that he might be safer if he lay upon his face, but he
quickly banished that suggestion when he saw that the prostrate position
of the deer did not impede its certain destruction. He scarce dared to
breathe, since every movement of a muscle hastened the work of the
muskeg.

Down, down he sank. The mud crept to his knees and gradually began to
ascend his thighs.

It seemed to be only a matter of time--another hour, perhaps less--and
the tragedy would end.

Yet he tried to be brave. He tried to brace h