By this time the tide had lowered, so that they could get out from the vessel on the mud. One by one they descended. They found the mud soft, of course, but not very much so. “O, boys,” cried Captain Corbet, “come back!” “All right!” cried Bruce. “Come, boys, if we stand, we’ll stick in the mud. Hurry along!” “Bo-o-oys! come back,” wailed Captain Corbet. “If you get harmed, I can’t follow you to help you.” “Good by.” “Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oys! O, Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oys!” wailed Captain Corbet, for the last time, as the boys went off. But this time they gave no response. He stood in silence, watching them, for a long, long time, with deep anxiety. The other boys also looked after them with not a doubt in the minds of any of them but that they would come back. Meanwhile the boys walked on upon their dangerous way. Perhaps their very ignorance of that danger saved them from it. They walked on in a straight line, knowing nothing of places which the people about believed to be dangerous; and as they found the outset easy, they expected all the rest would be the same. The mud was like that which they had met with before--soft at the surface, but hard beneath, so that they sank in a little distance at every step, but nevertheless, found a firm foothold. The mud was so soft, and the foothold beneath so firm, that their feet were not very badly clogged. They did not find it so difficult as walking over clay roads after they had been soaked with rains, and cut up by heavy teams. They walked on rapidly, in as straight a line as possible, laughing and shouting, declaring that mud fiats were slandered, and that there was much worse walking on many a country road. At length the mud grew softer, and the bottom was not so near the surface. To walk over this, even at a rapid pace, was difficult; for where the foot was planted at full length, it would sink so that it was difficult to extricate it. A swifter pace was necessary. “Are you tired, Phil?” asked Bruce. “No,” said Phil; and, indeed, he seemed as fresh as any of them. “Because we’ll have to go faster,” said Bruce. “Come, now, boys--Indian trot!” Away they went at the peculiar pace known by that name,--the body bent forward, and the fore part of the foot touching the ground with its elastic tread, moving at that slow, steady, easy trot which is faster and lighter than a walk, and but little more fatiguing to those who have the knack of it. This carried them on very well for some considerable distance farther, and on looking back they began to congratulate themselves on the distance which they had already traversed. Ere long the grass-covered marsh was within sight--the place where danger ended, and progress was easier. But between them and that place there still lay difficulties which they knew not of.