Then he was frightened worse than ever for fear it might have been Duncan's collie.
The first afternoon that he found his wires down, and he was compelled to plunge knee deep into the black swamp-muck to restring them, he became so ill from fear and nervousness that he scarcely could control his shaking hand to do the work.

With every step, he felt that he would miss secure footing and be swallowed in that clinging sea of blackness.
In dumb agony he plunged forward, clinging to the posts and trees until he had finished restringing and testing the wire.

He had consumed much time.

Night closed in.

The Limberlost stirred gently, then shook herself, growled, and awoke around him.
There seemed to be a great owl hooting from every hollow tree, and a little one screeching from every knothole.