Salt. Salter than salt herring."
"Do you want to turn back, Hig?" asked Payne suddenly.
"You're going to try to get through?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm with you to the finish; and that's settled."
Payne pointed out over the mud which lay between them and their
destination.
"That's the way we're going. First of all we'll see if the thing can
be waded."
He stepped carefully off into the oozy slime and allowed himself to
sink. He sank to his shoulders without finding any bottom.
"Nothing doing there," he said when Higgins had pulled him back to
safety. "Come on."
He led the way up the bank to where the high land gave way to the
treacherous mud. Higgins essayed attempts in various directions, but
each time found the mud of unwadable depths and was dragged back to
solid ground by his employer's long arms.
"We'll try the mangrove swamp," said Payne.
Higgins' description of the swamps as one "that a bobcat couldn't get
through" was not an exaggeration. Countless mangrove trees, each with
its horde of branches curving weirdly downward and rooted beneath the
black water which covered the earth, formed a nightmarish obstacle
through which it would have been folly for any one to attempt to force
a way. Between the interwoven tops of the trees the sun found rare
openings through which its rays struck bolts of light, revealing by
contrast the infernolike gloom of the swamp's interior.
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