pply became exhausted.

"September eighth: Lovely weather to-day. Good going last night in
small swamp. Good cover in a forest on the banks of the Ems. We will
try to cross to-night. Meals: potatoes and mangels. Our final try for
liberty. Feel good for it."

We had arrived at the river at two o'clock that morning, too played
out to attempt the crossing then. We retraced our steps to a potato
field, dug some of the tubers and, when daylight came, lit a fire and
roasted them. We were in a dense forest of young trees, so that by
lighting the fire before the mist lifted, the latter hid our smoke.
We remained unperceived, though we could hear voices and footsteps on
every side.

"September ninth: Swam the river and two canals. Crossed a large
swamp. No rain but very cold. Think we are over the border. Very poor
cover in a hedge. Wet to the skin. Clothes got soaked but in best of
spirits and confident."

We went down to survey the river shortly before dusk and found it both
broad and swift. We went back again and tore a gate from its hinges,
carried it the five hundred yards down to the river and then stripped
for the crossing. The gate was not big enough to carry us but answered
for our clothes. Simmons swam ahead, guiding it, while I shoved from
behind. We made the crossing without mishap but straightway fell into
one of the worst experiences of the entire trip. We plunged into a
swamp which took us five hours to get through. There were moments when
we all but gave up and thought we should never get out. At times we
sank in it up to our waists, particularly after leaping at the
numerous tufts of grass which seemed to promise a footing that they
never realised and which sometimes sent us in it to the armpits, so
that we were sure we were doomed to be sucked down for good in the
filthy mess.

The fearful odour that our plunging around stirred up, naturally aided
our nervous imaginings and it was undoubtedly the worst trial we had
yet met with on the journey. I cannot convey the black despair which
took possession of our hearts at the seeming hopelessness of all our
efforts to find firm footing or a break in the landscape which might
indicate a change in the nature of the country, a light, a voice,
anything that would help to lift from our hearts the feeling of utter
isolation from all human assistance and the seeming certainty that a
few bubbles would be the only indication that we had struggled there.
The darkness of