him gradually sinking further.

"Keep up your nerve, friend!" called Tom, in cool encouragement. "We'll
soon have you out of that."

Gripping the lariat with both bands, Tom gave a strong, sudden wrench
and succeeded in drawing the imperiled man out of the sand a few inches.

Then the poor fellow began to settle again moaning piteously as he saw a
hideous death staring him in the face.

Tom Reade's own face was deathly white from a realization of the other's
peril. Of his own danger the young chief engineer had not once stopped
to think.

Harry Hazelton was again on his feet. That much Foreman Payson had
permitted, but strong-armed laborers stood on either side of the boy,
and their detaining grips were on his arm.

Out yonder the doomed man saw the engulfing sand creeping up on a level
with his eyes. He tried to scream, but the sand shifted into his mouth.
In pitiable terror the poor fellow closed his mouth in order to delay
death for another moment. Even to call for help would now be swiftly
fatal!

Behind came the thunder of hoofs.

"Ropes!" shouted the horseman on Harry's mount.

He rode past the groups of men, close to the platform. Then, leaping