er his shoulders, put the
other looped rope into his hand, then laid an oar on the mud.
"Now, go; the rushes will hold you when you get there," she said
sharply.

With light, cautious movements Phil stepped out on to the oar,
balancing himself like a tightrope dancer, and because he was so
small and light he passed in safety where a heavier person would
have been quickly submerged.

Katherine stood up in the boat paying out both coils of rope. Her
face was ghastly white, and her heart was beating to suffocation.
She had not felt like this that day when she ventured her life on
the ice to save Jervis Ferrars in the flood. But that had been her
own danger, this was her brother's, and therein lay the difference.

"Landed!" cried Phil, in a quavering tone of triumph, as he planted
his bare feet firmly in the rushes, which, happily, were so matted
together that they would not let him through. Then he stooped, and
Katherine heard him talking to the poor wretch caught in the mud
beyond. "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