“Ready, everybody?” called out Max.

Receiving an affirmative reply from three pairs of lips, he went on to say: 

“Then get busy, pulling!  Make it a steady haul, and no jerks, or you’ll hurt Steve more than is necessary.  Steady there, Bandy-legs, no hurry, remember—­just a regular increasing pull!  Good enough, boys!”

Steve had obeyed instructions, and by the way he worked both feet as soon as he felt the strain one might think he was practicing swimming lessons.  It must have given him more or less physical pain to feel the terrible drag of the rope under his arms, but he shut his teeth hard together, and kept back a groan.

“Now rest a bit, Toby and Bandy-legs!” called out Max.  “How about it, Steve—­you moved some, didn’t you?”

“Yes yes, quite a little, Max!” cried the other.  “Please get busy again right away.  I’m sick of staying in this old quicksand!”

He still clung tenaciously to his steel fishing rod, as though he meant that it should share his fate.  Once more the team ashore started in.  Now their task seemed lighter, as though, having succeeded in dragging their chum up several inches, with his whole weight now suspended by the rope, the job was going to be finished in short order.

Soon Steve, crowing joyously, was drawn completely out of the water.  He gave this a last suggestive kick and then dangled there in midair, spinning around like a teetotum.

“Hand me your rod, Steve,” commanded Max.  “Then use your arms and pull yourself up on the limb.  After that you can easily hunch along like I do, and get to the main trunk.  It’s all over but the shouting, Steve; and you can consider yourself pretty lucky to get off as easily as you do, with a pair of wet trousers.”

“I’m thankful enough, Max, you can make sure of that,” said the other, carrying out the suggestion, and thus freeing both hands for the task of mounting to the friendly limb.

Before long he had reached the ground, where his three chums each gravely shook hands with him.  Steve was already getting back his nerve, that had been under a severe strain.

“But anyway I did have bully good luck pulling out fat trout, boys,” he told them.  “You can pick up a dozen along this side of the stream.  Fact is, it was such splendid fun that I just stood too long in one place, catching them and tossing the beauties ashore; and so when I tried to move, why, I couldn’t to save my life.  It felt like a giant had gripped both feet, and was holding me down.  The more I tried the worse it got.  Whee!  I would have been pretty badly scared if no one was near by, I own up to that.”

Perhaps the others mentally considered that as it was, Steve had looked a “good deal concerned” at the time of their arrival; but not wishing to harrow his feelings any further just then they kept this to themselves; though Bandy-legs did give Toby a suggestive wink, to which the other replied in like kind.