On the side nearest to us some abandoned peat-cuttings showed that
ubiquitous man had been at work there, but beyond these few petty scars
there was no sign anywhere of human life. Not even a crow nor a
seagull flapped its way over that hideous desert.
This is the great Bog of Cree. It is a salt-water marsh formed by an
inroad of the sea, and so intersected is it with dangerous swamps and
treacherous pitfalls of liquid mud, that no man would venture through it
unless he had the guidance of one of the few peasants who retain the
secret of its paths.
As we approached the fringe of rushes which marked its border, a foul,
dank smell rose up from the stagnant wilderness, as from impure water
and decaying vegetation--an earthy, noisome smell which poisoned the
fresh upland air.
So forbidding and gloomy was the aspect of the place that our stout
crofter hesitated, and it was all that we could do to persuade him to
proceed. Our lurcher, however, not being subject to the delicate
impressions of our higher organisation, still ran yelping along with its
nose on the ground and every fibre of its body quivering with excitement
and eagerness.
There was no difficulty about picking our way through the morass, for
wherever the five could go we three could follow.
If we could have had any doubts as to our dog's guidance they would all
have been removed now, for in the soft, black, oozing soil we could
distinctly trace the tracks of the whole party.
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