home and astonish my father with all this knowledge. I'll make his
eyes stick out."

Van broke into hearty laughter at the thought. Then, as he started
to walk on he gave a shout of dismay.

"Hold onto me, Bob," he cried. "I can't move. While I've been
standing here listening to your words of wisdom I've been sinking
deeper and deeper into your old yellow mud until now I can't stir.
I can't--upon my word. My feet are in perfectly solid. You can laugh
if you want to, but you've just got to pull me out, that's all.
Help! Help! To the rescue. I shall disappear in another minute.
David will never see his rubber boots again."

"Of course you can get your feet out," was Bob's scornful retort.

"Cross my heart I can't. Honest, Bobbie," protested Van. "I've got
into a quicksand or a quagmire or something. Look at me. I'm up to
my knees now, and if you don't hurry you'll see nothing of me but my
collar. I saved your life yesterday; you might do the same for me
to-day."

But Bob was too convulsed with amusement to offer aid; instead he
stood on a large rock at the roadside and laughed immoderately.

"Pull! Pull!" he cried to Van. "Why don't you pull?"

"I am pulling," Van answered. "But it does no good. I can't budge my
feet. I never saw such mud in all my life. It must be yards deep. It
sucks my boots right off. You'll have to help me."