of you.

Pretty soon my legs began getting very tired like a fellow's legs always
do when he keeps standing in water. Only this was worse than water. I
wondered how it would feel when my knees gave out and I sank down.

Then I happened to think about having my hikebook with me. It was all
wet and the pencil was wet too, but I held it up high out of the marsh
and wrote this on one of the pages. After I wrote it I stuck it up high
on one of the marsh weeds.

This is where Roy Blakeley, patrol leader, Silver Fox Patrol, Bridgeboro
Troop, B. S. A., was sucked down into the marsh, after he couldn't stand
up any more. I was standing on something that was hard and maybe you'll
find my body lying on that. In my desk is something I was going to give
my mother for a birthday present. I send her a lot of love too. My father
too. And I hope my Patrol gets along all right and that the troop has a
lot of fun this summer. I hope somebody will find this.

CHAPTER VI

THE TIGHT PLACE

After that I made up my mind I wouldn't think any more about living and
then I was satisfied, kind of. 'Cause as long as you know you've got to
die, what's the difference. They could get another fellow to lead the
patrol, that's one sure thing. Mostly I cared about my mother on
account of not being able to say good-bye to her. All of a sudden it
seemed as if there was more water around me than before. Up to that
time it was mushy, kind of, but not much water. But now it was more
like water all around me and I noticed a little bunch of net moss near
me. Maybe you don't know what net moss is. It's moss that grows in
swamps. Well, what do you think I saw lying on that clump of net moss?
Cracky, you'd hardly believe it, but it was a spark plug. And it looked
funny to see it there.

If you're not a scout maybe you don't know anything about camping, but
it's one of our rules not to defile the woods with rubbish and Mr.
Ellsworth always told us a tomato can didn't look right in the woods.
Well, jiminety, that spark plug sure did look funny lying on that
piece of net moss. It floated right near my shoulder and I lifted it
off and, oh, crinkums, but it made me 'think of Bridgeboro.

It was almost the same as if it was a fellow come to rescue me, as you
might say. It was just because it didn't belong there, I guess. Of
course, I knew it couldn't rescue me, but it reminded me of people and
that kind of cheered me up a little. Then I began to think abo