His deep tracks in the mud were about five feet apart, so great was his stride and length of limb, and, although the soft bog was at least three and a half feet deep, his belly was full two feet above the surface.

He was a fine fellow, and, with intense caution, I advanced towards him over the trembling surface of baked slime.

His tracks had nearly filled with water, and looked like little wells.

The bog waved as I walked carefully over it, and I stopped once or twice, hesitating whether I should continue; I feared the crusty surface would not support me, as the nearer I approached the water's edge the weaker the coating of slime became, not having been exposed for so long a time to the sun as that at a greater distance.
He was making so much noise in splashing the mud over his body that I had a fine chance for getting up to him.

I could not withstand the temptation, and I crept up as fast as I could.
I got within eight paces of him unperceived; the mud that he threw over his back spattered round me as it fell.