Angel's cursing distracted him from his thoughts. Professor said mildly, "Don't use such language, Angel. After all, you _have_ escaped. And here's another trap--with something in it." Angel's eyes glittered. "It's a 'possum. They're good eatin'." He began to laugh. "Say, won't this guy be sore when he finds two traps sprung, and nothin' in them!" But later that day, when they saw the trapper, it seemed less like a laughing matter. The man carried a rifle, and as Angel made an incautious noise, he swung around, rifle butt to his shoulder. Angel dropped just as the bullet cut through the leaves near where his head had been. And then the trapper's rifle exploded, just as the other rifles had done. The trapper stared at what was left of his weapon in his hand and then turned and ran. Angel said, "You pointed your finger again!" "No," said Crusoe. "Not this time. I just _started_ to point." "Maybe it's just the thinkin' about it that does it. Maybe you can do things by thinkin'." "That's absurd." "I wonder," said the Professor. "The swamp ahead of us is particularly nasty. We'll have to wade through water and mud at least to our waists. And when I remember how muddy you were when I found you, I have a feeling that you must have wandered through here. Now if we could only dry up the swamp--" "They tried to do it once," said Angel. "It can't be done." "But suppose Crusoe were to point his finger at it and think: 'Swamp, dry up.' I wonder what would happen." They were both staring at Crusoe now, and he said, "Nothing would happen." "You can't tell," said Angel. "Maybe Professor's right. Maybe it _would_ dry up. Try it and see." "I refuse to make a fool of myself." "The foolish thing," remarked the Professor, "is not to try." "Yeah, that trapper will be comin' back after awhile, with his pals. He'll keep us from goin' back the way we came. We'll have to go ahead. And I hate to get all muddy. Come on, pal, just point your finger and think the magic words." * * * * * He did feel like a fool, and if the other two had seemed at all skeptical, he would never have dared do it. Nevertheless, there did seem to be nothing to lose. He pointed his finger at the dark and muddy water, at the tangle of fallen trees and rotting water lilies, and concentrated. "Think hard," urged the Professor. He thought hard and forgot that they were there. Suddenly, a sheet of blinding flame swept over the swamp. He heard Angel cry out, and covered his own eyes. When the flame had passed, the water was gone, and with it the tangle of fallen vegetation. Before them lay a bed of hard dry clay. "You did it," said Angel in awe. "I didn't," he replied angrily. "You just can't do things like that by thinking." "I know _I_ can't," said Angel. "But you can. It's magic." The Professor smiled. "Let's not worry what it is. The main thing is that the swamp ahead of us is now dry, and we can go ahead."