* * * * *
That morning two of the searchers went to the northeast into the dense and
tangled swamp woods between Bald Peak and Cloudy Peak--the wildest
wilderness in the mountains. The light barely penetrates the foliage on the
brightest days. The ground is rough, sometimes precipitous, closely covered
with bushes and tangled creepers.
The two explorers, almost lost themselves, came at last to the edge of a
swamp surrounded by cedars. They half-crawled, half-climbed through the low
trees and festooning creepers to the edge of a clear bit of open, firm
ground.
In the middle was a cedar tree. Under it, seated upon the ground, was the
lost boy. His bare, brown legs, torn and bleeding, were stretched straight
in front of him. His bare feet were bruised and cut. His gingham dress was
torn and wet and stained. His small hands were smears of dirt and blood. He
was playing with a tin can. He had put a stone into it and was making a
great rattling. The dog was running to and fro, apparently enjoying the
noise. The little boy's face was tear-stained and his eyes were swollen.
But he was not crying just then and laughter lurked in his thin,
fever-flushed face.
As the men came into view, the dog began to bark angrily, but the boy
looked a solemn welcome.
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