"Look again," snapped Max. "Don't you see how deep he's in? Pretty
nearly up to his waist, isn't he?"

"That's all right," said Bandy-legs, "but if the silly has gone and
waded deeper than he meant to, why don't he just turn around and walk
out again?"

"Because he can't!" Max told him, still running.

"Hey! w-w-what's hindering him!" stammered Toby, thrilled by this new
mystery that had so suddenly dawned upon them.

"The sand's got too tight a grip on him," cried Max, "and he's sinking
deeper all the time!"

"Oh! thunder, it's quicksand, then!" exploded Bandy-legs.

Having now the key to the enigma explaining Steve's strange action, as
well as his queer antics while floundering about out there in the little
stream, both boys could easily see that May evidently spoke the truth.
So those envious Spanish courtiers found it easy to balance an egg on
end, after Columbus showed them how to do the trick.

In another half minute they arrived on the shore of the little stream.
Steve out there, with the shallow water coming now up almost to his
waist, greeted their arrival with a sickly grin.

"Sorry to bother you, boys," he said, "but seems like I've gone and got
into a nasty pickle. Please yank me out of this, won't you?"