mire. So deep was the mud that it
seemed as if it literally sucked at the
legs of the horse and the wheels of the
buggy, and I began to wonder if we
should really be swallowed, and to fear
that we had met with a difficulty that
even my father could not overcome. I
can hardly make plain what a tragic
thought that was! The horse began to
give out sighs and groans, and in the
intervals of his struggles to get on, I
could feel him trembling. There was
a note of anxiety in father's voice as
he called out, with all the authority and
cheer he could command, to poor Sheri-
dan. The wind was rising, and the long
sobs of the pines made cold shivers run
up my spine. My teeth chattered,
partly from cold, but more from fright.

"What are we going to do?" I asked,
my voice quivering with tears.

"Well, we aren't going to cry, what-
ever else we do!" answered father,
rather sharply. He snatched the
lighted lantern from its place on the
dashboard and leaped out into the road.
I could hear him floundering round in
that terrible mire and soothing the