hung across the water like a curtain. Yet out into this flat, shallow
void our mules went steadily, slop! slop! slop! in single file.
Already they were growing indistinct in the fog, so I bade Dorothy
hasten and take off her shoes and stockings.

She was ready before I was, I having to unlace my shooting-boots, and
she stepped out into the water, kilts fluttering, moving her white
feet cautiously. In a moment I was beside her, and we waded forward,
sounding the shallow water with our poles.

When the water had risen to Dorothy's knees I hesitated, alarmed. But
when we attempted to retrace our steps we could not find the shore
again, for the blank mist shrouded everything, and the water deepened
at every step.

I halted and listened for the mules. Far away in the fog I heard a
dull splashing, receding as I listened. After a while all sound died
away, and a slow horror stole over me--a horror that froze the little
net-work of veins in every limb. A step to the right and the water
rose to my knees; a step to the left and the cold, thin circle of the
flood chilled my breast. Suddenly Dorothy screamed, and the next
moment a far cry answered--a far, sweet cry that seemed to come from
the sky, like the rushing harmony of the world's swift winds. Then the
curtain of fog before us lighted up from behind; shadows moved on the
misty screen, outlines of trees and grassy shores, and tiny birds
flying. Thrown on the vapory curtain, in silhouette, a man and a woman
passed under the lovely trees, arms about each other's necks; near
them the shadows of five mules grazed peacefully; a dingue gambolled
close by.