About eight o’clock the moon came up, a great ball of silver in a clear blue sky, and turned the stagnant water of the bog to pools of silver.  It was a beautiful night to look at, but a bad night for fugitives.  Bromley, being a little heavier than either Edwards or I, broke through the crust of the bog several times, and had difficulty in getting out.

About midnight, with the heavy going, he began to show signs of exhaustion.  His underwear, shrunken with cold-water washing, bound his limbs, and he told us he could not keep up.  Then we carried his overcoat and told him we would stop to rest just as soon as we crossed the track, if we could find a bush, and he made brave efforts to keep up with us.

“You’ll be all right, Tom, when we get out of the swamp,” we told him.

About half-past two we reached the railroad, and finding a close thicket of spruce on the other side, we went in and tried to make Bromley comfortable.  He fell fast asleep as soon as he got his head down, and it was evident to Edwards and me that our comrade was in poor shape for a long tramp.  Still we hoped that a day’s rest would revive him.  He slept most of the day and seemed better before we started out.

The day was dry and fine, but, of course, we were wet from the hard going across the bog, and it was too cold to be comfortable when not moving.

We could hear the children playing, and the wagons passing on a road near by, and once we heard the whistle of a railway train—­but no one came near the wood.

At nightfall we stole out and pushed off again.  Bromley made a brave attempt to keep going, but the mud and heavy going soon told on him, and he begged us to go on and leave him.

“If you don’t go on, boys,” he said, “we’ll all be taken.  Leave me, and you two will have a chance.  I can’t make it, boys; I can only crawl along.”

We came to a road at last and the going was easier.  Bromley found he could get along more easily, and we were making pretty fair time when we saw something dark ahead of us.  I was of the opinion that we should go around it, but Bromley could not stand any more travelling across country, and we pushed on.

The dark object proved to be a house, and it was only one of many, for we found ourselves in a small town.  Then we took the first road leading out of the town, and, walking as fast as we could, pushed quietly out for the country, Edwards ahead, I next, and Bromley behind.

I heard some one whistling and thought it was Bromley, and waited for him to come up to tell him to keep quiet, but when he came beside me, he whispered, “They are following us.”

We went on.

Soon a voice behind us called, “Halt!”

“It’s no use, Sim—­they have us,” Bromley whispered.

Ahead of us was a little bush, toward which we kept going.  We did not run, because we thought that the people who were following us were not sure who we were, and therefore would not be likely to shoot.  Bromley knew he could not stand a race for it in his condition, but, knowing him as I do, I believe he would have made the effort; but I think he saw that if he went back and surrendered, it would give us more time to get away.