If it had gone beyond my reach I should have drowned in that filthy stinking hole without much delay. I shall never forget the foul smell of the morass. Green bubbles burst in the scum around me. My strongest feeling as I sank was not fear but revulsion; to choke submerged in this abominable stew!—I strained to reach the rifle and succeeded in clasping the tips of the fingers of my left hand round the barrel. When I put my weight on the barrel it did not move. It was wedged securely; now I could breathe, and now feel fear; I pulled and struggled to escape. The bog clung to me.

I had not enough strength in my fingers to pull myself nearer to the side. I had indeed scarcely enough strength to keep myself from sinking farther, and already my fingers were losing their grip, growing numb, slipping from the smooth steel. I set my teeth and made myself quit labouring and struggling so that I could think, before it was too late. I saw a dreadful picture of myself hanging there until my left hand released its hold, and I went down.

A mood of apathy came over me. Rest was sweet, to close one’s eyes; a violent desire for life followed immediately afterwards. I thought of a hundred expedients. No doubt there were only seconds between my falling into the bog and the moment when I dragged the leather belt from my waist with my right hand; it was all I could do to force myself to thrust my hand into the slime to unloosen my belt. I was wearing a broad leather belt, stiff enough to push forward with my right hand until it passed underneath the barrel of the rifle. I got the tip of the forefinger of my left hand round the edge of the belt. With bated breath I worked the belt between my other fingers. Then I had both ends in my hand, in my two hands; I lay with closed eyes, resting my weight on the line that held my life. I had to wait until strength returned to my left hand before I could drag myself free. I was free; I lay on my face on the ground with my hands gripping the solid dear earth. I was sick and spent, but the beast which cost so much must be brought home. I gralloched the hind and severed her backbone. When the forequarters were happed with stones to keep them safe from carrion beasts and birds I got the hindquarters over my head, with a haunch on each side of my neck and the legs in my hands. Staggering, tripping, reeling, I blundered home.

Terry was distracted with anxiety, and I could not clean all the mire from my clothes. I concocted a story which sounded false as I told it. Oh, how sweet it was to be clean, to lie down, to sleep!