I tried to maneuver myself around, so that I was facing away from her, but my legs from the knees downward were held fast. It was utterly frustrating to have nothing firm to hold on to. I made for a clump of grass and grabbed at it, only to have it break off in my hand. At that moment the torch gave out, leaving us in total darkness. Then a voice near me whispered, “Don’t struggle. Lie flat. Spread yourself out on the surface.” I looked around, trying to see where the voice had come from, but I could see nobody through the blackness; indeed, it seemed as if the voice had come from inside my head. I obeyed it, recoiling from the cold touch of the mud on my chin. Now that my weight was not on my feet, I felt I could move my legs again. Then the voice came again. “Swim. Slowly. Gently. Big strokes. Breaststroke, like a frog.”

It was not easy to do anything gently, but I managed to maneuver myself around, away from Trixie. I could hear her wailing and cursing. “Oh, God. I don’t want to die. Somebody save me. Somebody!”

Then what looked like a rope of shimmering silver came flying out across the bog to me. It landed within reach and the voice said softly, “Hold on.” I reached for it, held and felt myself moved forward. Within a yard or two I was scraping against tufts of grass, firmer ground. I got to my knees and dragged myself forward with the last of my strength.

Unseen hands helped me up and I stood there, gasping, feeling the heavy caking of mud drying on me in the cold wind.

“You’re all right now,” the voice said and I could make out Wild Sal—the real Wild Sal—standing beside me.

“You saved my life. How can I ever thank you?” I said.

“You tried to save her,” Sal said. “When she deserved to die. Well, now she’s getting what she deserves. Now she knows what it feels like.”

We both peered out into the darkness where Trixie Robbins was thrashing and screaming. “Help me! Get me out!”

“Is there no way we could help her?” I asked.

“Only if we had planks, which we don’t,” she said.

“Is your rope not long enough to reach her?”

“I don’t have no rope,” she said.

“But you threw it to me.”

“Just the piece of cord I tie around my middle,” she said. “It ain’t but a yard or more.”

An image of the shining silver rope flashed across my mind. Surely it had been longer than that, and almost moved with a life of its own?

“We can’t reach her,” she said. “She’d go to the gallows anyway. This is Nature taking her revenge.”