The Frenchman watched him as he waded out. The black water reached no
higher than his knees, but the ground was soft under foot, and he
floundered anxiously.

"It sucks at you," he called. "It's all greasy."

He moved on, and came to the sand island.

"It's better here," he called. "I'll be all right now."

The Frenchman jumped to his feet.

"Look out!" he shouted, gesticulating violently. "You go down; walk
off 'im!"

Mills glanced down, and saw that the creeping sand had him knee-deep.
He dragged his right foot forth and plunged forward, but with the
action his left leg sank to the crutch, and he only kept his balance
with a violent effort.

The Frenchman danced on the bank. "Throw you' gun down," he shouted.
"Throw you' boots down. You' in to the waist now. Push yo'self back
to the water. Push hard."

He wrung his hands together with excitement.

Mills threw down his gun, and the sand swallowed it at once. He
turned his head to the man at the bank.

"It's no good, chum," he said quietly. "I reckon you better take a