"The moment," said Herring, "that you begin to feel bored, tell me." "Why?" "So that I can encourage you. I will tell you that you are doing something that has never been done before. And that will make you feel fine and dandy. What we are doing is just as hard as finding the North Pole, only there isn't going to be so much of it. Now then, in negotiating this next sheet of water----" And so they proceeded until the sun was high in the heavens and until it was low. XIV To attempt the dangerous passage of a swamp when they might have returned to camp in the guide boat was undoubtedly a most imbecile decision. And if Phyllis had not been thoroughly flustered by the upset, which was all her fault, she never would have consented to it. As for Herring's voice in the matter, it was that which the young man always gave when there was a question of adventure. He didn't get around mountains by the valley road. He climbed over them. He had not in his whole being a suspicion of what is dangerous. He had never been afraid of anything. He probably never would be. He would have enjoyed leading half a dozen forlorn hopes every morning before breakfast. "We were idiots," said Phyllis, "to leave the boat." "We can't go back to it now," said Herring. "We don't know the way." "Your voice sounds as if you were glad of it." "I am. I was dreadfully afraid you'd decide against crossing this swamp. I'd set my heart on it." "It isn't I," said Phyllis, "that's against our crossing this swamp. It's the swamp." "The main thing," said Herring, with satisfaction (physically he was almost exhausted), "is that here we are safe and sound. We don't know where 'here' is, but it's with us, it won't run away. When we've rested we shall go on, taking 'here' with us. Wherever we go is 'here.' Think of that!" "I wish I could think of something else," said Phyllis, "but I can't. I'm almost dead." "You are doing something that no girl has ever done before, not even your sisters, those princesses of fortune. Years from now, when you begin, 'Once when I happened to be crossing the Swamp with a young fellow named Herring--' they will have to sit silent and listen." "If you weren't so cheerful," said Phyllis, "I should have begun to cry an hour ago. Do you really think this is fun?" "Do I think it's fun? To be in a scrape--not to know when or how we are going to get out of it? You bet I think it's fun." "People have died," said Phyllis, "having just this sort of fun. Suppose we can't get out?" "You mean to-day? Perhaps we can't. Perhaps not to-morrow. Perhaps we shall have to learn how to live in a swamp. A month of the life we've led for the last few hours might turn us into amphibians. That would be intensely novel and interesting. But, of course, when winter comes and the place freezes over we can march right out and take up our orthodox lives where we left off. Listen!" "What?" "I think I hear webs growing between my fingers and toes."