BLACK SWAMP 81 



eyes almost closed by the stings, the bear 

 plunged straight forward into this morass. 

 His first instinct was to struggle frantically 

 back, but, as he fell, his nose had dipped into 

 the mud. The chill of it was like a balm to 

 his tortured nostrils and lips. This, indeed 

 was what he wanted. He wallowed straight 

 ahead, plunging his face deep into the icy 

 slime. The drench of it soothed the scorching 

 of his stung belly. The anguish of his eyelids 

 was assuaged. Again and again, buried now 

 to his shoulders, he thrust his face into the 

 ooze. Then, with the salving of his torment, 

 his senses seemed to return. He tried to 

 wallow back to firm ground. 



The swamp, as we have seen, was in all 

 things monstrous. It was monstrous now to 

 its offspring and victim, in warning him too 

 late. The patch of morass was of great depth, 

 and the bear was sucked under so swiftly 

 that, even as he turned to escape, he sank to 

 the neck. His huge forepaws beat and 

 clawed at the stiffer surface, breaking it down 

 into the liquid ooze beneath. Presently they 

 also were engulfed. Only his head remained 

 above the mud. His gaping muzzle, strained 

 straight upward, emitted hideous gasps and 

 groans. A beam of moonlight lay across the 

 scene, still and malignant, and the racoon 



