I had long since, as I said, given
myself over to the horses. But now I grew nervous. No
doubt, unless we had entirely strayed from our road, we
were by this time riding the last dam; for no other trail
over which we went was quite so rough. But then I should
have heard the rumble on the bridge, and I felt convinced
that I had not. It shows to what an extent a man may be
hypnotised into insensibility by a constant sameness of
view, that I was mistaken. If we were on the dam and
missed the turn at the end of it, on to the correction
line, we should infallibly go down from the grade, on to
muskeg ground, for there was a gap in the dam. At that
place I had seen a horse disappear, and many a cow had
ended there in the deadly struggle against the downward
suck of the swamp...
I pulled the horses back to a walk, and we went on for
another half hour. I was by this time sitting on the left
hand side of the side, bicycle lantern in my left hand,
and bending over as far as I could to the left, trying,
with arm outstretched, to reach the ground with my light.
The lantern at the back of the buggy was useless for
this.
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