“Phil, can you reach the oar?” Katherine cried, her voice hoarse, for she could hardly endure the strain of the waiting.

“Yes,” said the boy, stooping now and touching the perilous bridge which had carried him to the comparative safety of the clump of rushes.

“Then lay it across the clump, and well under the man’s hands; keep it as firm as you can for him, while I haul on the rope.  Now then——!”

With all her strength Katherine hauled at the rope.  She was sitting now with her feet braced against the thwarts, and with every muscle tense she strained and strained until the perspiration streamed down her face, and the hot air of the swamp as it rose up seemed to choke her.

[Illustration:  With all her strength Katherine hauled at the rope.]

“Hooray, he’s coming!” yelled Phil, and Katherine, who had been almost fainting, gathered her courage for yet another effort.

Phil was helping now, but, best of all, the poor victim of the muskeg was doing his share also, and at the end of a quarter of an hour of pulling, tugging, and straining he was on his knees in the clump of rushes beside Phil, and Katherine was able to rest her bleeding hands and plan the next stage of that perilous journey.  But a few moments of rest that poor mud-coated wretch must have before taking any more risks, so she said cheerfully:  “Now, stay as you are for five or ten minutes, just to get your strength back a little, and I will shift my cargo to accommodate you, for you will need a reserved seat, I fancy.  Phil, take your handkerchief and wipe the poor man’s face.  I’m afraid it is rather a dirty one.  Your handkerchiefs are never fit to be seen, but it is better than nothing.”

Phil took a grimy blue-and-yellow cotton rag from the pocket of his serge nether garments, and proceeded to wipe the rescued man’s face with as much force and energy as if he had been polishing tin pans with a view to making them shine.

“Softly, softly!  How would you like to have your own face rubbed in that fashion?” admonished Katherine; and then, finishing her preparations, she stood up in the boat in readiness to help the poor man through his last stage to safety.  “Please throw me that oar,” she said.

Phil took up the oar, and pitched it with great dexterity, so that it fell close to the boat.

Katherine picked it up, making a little grimace of disgust at its filthiness; then, wiping the worst of the mud off on the nearest clump of rushes, she proceeded to lash both oars together with the other end of the rope that was tied to Phil.

“Are you ready?” she asked sharply, for the man still knelt gasping and panting, and seemed to have no power to help himself.

Aided by Phil he rose slowly to his feet, then said in a hoarse voice:  “I don’t think I can walk that bridge.”

“You will have to do it, or stay where you are until we can row round to Seal Cove to bring assistance for you.  Even then it may be hours before help can reach you, for the fishermen are all out to-day, and Mr. Ferrars is away also, as he has had to go to Akimiski to-day with Mr. Selincourt and his daughter.”