"Stand still!" called back Dick, and placed the lantern in another clump of rushes. Then he caught hold of a tree that was handy and took a grip on Sam's hand. "Now catch hold of Tom," (he went on, and the youngest Rover did so. Then came a long and strong pull, and with a sucking sound, poor Tom came out of the sticky mud and landed beside his brothers.
"Wow! that's a mess!" said the fun-loving Rover, as he surveyed his feet, plastered thick with the mud.
"Stick to the dry ground after this," advised Dick. "Come on, the dead leaves will soon brush that mud off." And forward he went once more, holding the lantern as before. In a little while after this the swamp was left behind, and then progress through the woods was more agreeable.
"Dick, don't you think we ought to be getting to the Dartaway pretty soon?" asked Tom, after a quarter of an hour more had passed and they were still moving forward.
"Yes."
"It didn't seem so far away as this," put in Sam. "Are you sure you are following the trail?"
"You can see for yourselves," answered Dick, and held the lantern close to the ground.
"Footsteps, sure enough," murmured Tom.
