"We must keep to high land, an we can—though, i' truth, I ha' never heard o' anyone finding quicksand here for certain, as they have i' the Newark swamps! Give me the lanthorn, please!" she added, extending her hand.
"The lanthorn! Nay—I—I" Jerry's voice trailed off into silence.
"Ye must ha' dropped it!" said Sally bitterly, after a little. "Nay, stay, I mind I left it myself upon that stump in the inn yard! Well," she squared her shoulders in a debonair fashion, "an we come to the worst shadows we—we—will wait and—and—see what they be! Besides, the moonlight doth filter through enough to—to—let us see, most o' the time!"
So, chatting forlornly, to keep up her show of bravery, Sally led the way into the depths of the swamp.
It was in vain! No sign was there of little Mary Todd anywhere! They fell to calling her name presently in a last hope that somewhere in that great, shadowy place she would hear and answer them. But again and again they listened, and nothing could be heard in response save perhaps the flight of a swamp rat or the scolding of a chipmunk upon a near-by stump.
It was their calling, as they neared the road once more, which was Sally's undoing. Master Todd, passing by and hearing her voice, came bursting
