“Please hurry!” pleaded the imprisoned boy.

“Keep cool, Steve,” advised Max, “because there’s positively no danger, now that we’re on deck.”

“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 under the sudden and terrible strain, to his arms being drawn from their sockets in the battle between the tenacious sand and the muscular ability of the two boys ashore.

When Max managed to reach a point directly above the one in peril, straddling the friendly limb as only a nimble boy could do, he quickly fashioned a slip-noose at one end of the rope.  This he lowered until Steve could snatch it, which he did with all the eagerness shown by the drowning man who clutches at a straw.

“Fix the noose under your arms, Steve,” directed the master of ceremonies, calmly enough, though possibly Max was more excited than he chose to let the other see, “and get the knot around so it will be exactly in front.  Then, when I give the word for the boys to commence heaving, you work both legs as hard as ever you can.  It’s going to help, more or less, you know.  I can’t do much up here, in the way of pulling, for I’d lose my balance; but make up your mind we’re meaning to yank you out of that in a jiffy, Steve.”

“Oh!  I hope so, Max, I surely hope so!”

Everything was soon ready.  Steve had complied with the directions, and now awaited the issue with all the fortitude he could command.  Afterwards perhaps Steve might sometime or other even laugh, as he remembered how scared he was; but just then, with the difficulty still unadjusted, it was not at all humorous.