But destiny had arranged that he should be just out of her reach; and he was too frightened to make the effort to struggle to her helping hand.
For a while Pollyooly, for all her power of resource, was at a loss; and the bellowing of the prince did nothing to clear her wits.

Then she saw how she could reach him.

She dug her feet into the bank, hugged the plank over the dyke with her left arm, and leaning forward, succeeded in getting a grip of his left wrist, and began to tug.

Her grip seemed to inspirit him, for he began to struggle hard toward the bank.

It was not an easy business in the thick mud, but thanks to the purchase afforded by the plank, Pollyooly could put most of her strength into the effort and slowly dragged him on to the firmer mud at the edge and then on to the bank.
Still blubbering a little, he followed Pollyooly up the bank; on the top of it she turned and surveyed him with horrified eyes.