She tried to shriek for help, but voice was gone. Breath and strength failed with horror. Again she strove to raise herself, and again she sank lower. Her only hope lay in keeping still. The position in which she lay was the best she could have chosen—her weight distributed, the shawl under her face. But she could not long remain thus. In a little while the black mud would rise up and overpower her. Afraid to stir, prone and helpless, every nerve was alive, every faculty wide awake. Thoughts flashed like lightning one upon another; past, present, future intermingled. She strove to be calm, to pray for help. She knew that death meant life beyond, and she was conscious of a definite clinging to the One Great Name, which alone has power in man's last extremity. She tried to think of re-union with the father and mother whom she loved. But she was so young, and life in this world held much of promise, and she wanted to learn more, to do more, to understand more, before the final passage. She shrank from such a passage as this. Suffocation, alone in a horrible bog, mantled over by the white fog-pall, was ghastly. "O God, save me!—Save!" she panted. A shout reached her ears. Somebody was coming. She tried to call, and it seemed that her voice went no distance. If she could keep up till help came!—but the slime was creeping higher. She saw it, felt it. It was making its way round the borders of her shawl. She watched with fascinated eyes. Soon the shawl would be sucked under; then the mud would reach her lips; then—nobody would know what had become of her. Would Giles be sorry? She thought so, and she sobbed a little. The man whose voice she had heard must have gone by; it seemed hours since the sound reached her. Had she been told that not five minutes had passed since her fall, she would have counted the words wild. Another shout roused her from despair. She called, "O come! O save me!" And the mud began to pour in a slow stream over the shawl. Led by Wiggles, Giles had aimed for the swamp, and suddenly Phyllys knew his voice. Her courage revived, for if anybody could save her, he could. She felt no surprise at his appearance. "Where are you?" he called. "In the bog. Take care; don't get in too!" He had to approach with caution; but he made her out, lying nearly submerged, head and shoulders alone visible above the dark surface. Had he not been compelled to give his whole mind to the problem of rescue, the horror of her condition would have overwhelmed him. He realised how awfully critical it was, how great the need for action. But he also realised that to rush recklessly in would only seal her fate. "Keep still; don't move," he urged. "I'll have you out. Don't be afraid."