"But tell me what you mean to do, Max?" continued Steve.

"Make use of this rope, which you see I just happened to fetch along,"
explained the other, holding up the article in question. "It's going to
save time, too, because one of us would have had to run back to camp,
and that must mean delay. You're deep enough in as it is, I guess."

"A whole lot deeper than is pleasant, I tell you," Steve instantly
added. "Why, at the rate it's sucking me down I guess in less'n a
quarter of an hour the water would be up to my chin. And then, oh!
fellows, just imagine how I'd feel when it began to cover my mouth.
You're not going away, I hope, Max?"

This last almost frantic cry was caused by a movement on the part of the
one on whom poor Steve's hopes most depended.

"I'm going to shin up this big tree that sends a limb out right over
your head, don't you see, Steve?" Max told him, reassuringly. "Once I
get above you and we'll make good use of this rope of mine. The limb
will act as a lever, and when the boys get to pulling at the other end
of the rope you've just _got_ to come out, that's all there is about
it."

"Hurrah! that's the ticket!" shouted Bandy-legs, seeing the game now for
the first time. "Steve, you're as good as landed. Bless that old rope,
it's already proved worth its weight in gold." Steve watched operations
anxiously. Despite the positive assurance conveyed in these words from
his chums, the terrible grip of that clinging sand made him cold with
apprehension. He imagined all sorts of things, from the rope breaking