Sure enough, at the month’s end down she stept, wrapped up in a black cloak, and a black hood over her yellow shining hair.  Straight she went to the bog edge and looked about her.  Water here and water there; waving tussocks and trembling mools, and great black snags all twisted and bent.  Before her all was dark—­dark but for the glimmer of the stars in the pools, and the light that came from her own white feet, stealing out of her black cloak.

The Moon drew her cloak faster about and trembled, but she wouldn’t go back without seeing all there was to be seen; so on she went, stepping as light as the wind in summer from tuft to tuft between the greedy gurgling water holes.  Just as she came near a big black pool her foot slipped and she was nigh tumbling in.  She grabbed with both hands at a snag near by to steady herself with, but as she touched it, it twined itself round her wrists, like a pair of handcuffs, and gript her so that she couldn’t move.  She pulled and twisted and fought, but it was no good.  She was fast, and must stay fast.

Presently as she stood trembling in the dark, wondering if help would come, she heard something calling in the distance, calling, calling, and then dying away with a sob, till the marshes were full of this pitiful crying sound; then she heard steps floundering along, squishing in the mud and slipping on the tufts, and through the darkness she saw a white face with great feared eyes.

’T was a man strayed in the bogs.  Mazed with fear he struggled on toward the flickering light that looked like help and safety.  And when the poor Moon saw that he was coming nigher and nigher to the deep hole, further and further from the path, she was so mad and so sorry that she struggled and fought and pulled harder than ever.  And though she couldn’t get loose, she twisted and turned, till her black hood fell back off her shining yellow hair, and the beautiful light that came from it drove away the darkness.

Oh, but the man cried with joy to see the light again.  And at once all evil things fled back into the dark corners, for they cannot abide the light.  So he could see where he was, and where the path was, and how he could get out of the marsh.  And he was in such haste to get away from the Quicks, and Bogles, and Things that dwelt there, that he scarce looked at the brave light that came from the beautiful shining yellow hair, streaming out over the black cloak and falling to the water at his feet.  And the Moon herself was so taken up with saving him, and with rejoicing that he was back on the right path, that she clean forgot that she needed help herself, and that she was held fast by the Black Snag.