“Help me out!” cried Jan.
“Keep quiet,” said Jules. “Do you remember the day out yonder on the prairie, when you threw me down and planted your elephant foot upon my breast? Ah, I see you have not forgotten. You remember it with pleasure. I have not forgotten it either, and I swore, sooner or later, to have my revenge. You aided that girl against me, and for that I’ll be doubly revenged.”
“I’m sinkin’ deeper all de dimes!” cried Jan. “Coom, Shules, pe a goot veller unt help me out. Vat’s de use of voolin’? I bunch your heat ven I does get out, off ye leave me here any more.”
“Perhaps you don’t know where you are?” said Jules. “Then I will tell you. There are places in these hills which we call quicksands. A man falls into one and from that moment, unless help is near, he is doomed. Even his struggles tell against him. Deeper and deeper he sinks in the slimy sand. The iron hands upon his ankles drag him down every moment. He sinks to his knees in the slime. He throws himself down. That is useless and will hasten his death. He struggles up again. He sinks to his thighs.”
“Mein Cott!” moaned Jan.
“You begin to comprehend. You see now what my revenge will be. You have sunk to your knees. The efforts you make to pull up one leg sink the other deeper. Your ponderous weight sinks you very fast. By-and-by you will be up to your neck; then your mouth will be covered; and when you begin to choke, I will sit by and laugh.”
Jan was sinking slowly, his face turned toward his executioner, who sat grimly down by the side of the quicksand, and waited for the end. The Dutchman made no effort to break down his stubborn resolve. A single glance at his set face was enough to show that all entreaties would be useless. In that hour when the true spirit of man comes to the surface, it was plain that Jan’s fears were rather the result of a life fraught with little danger, than cowardice; and if he failed to look danger bravely in the face at first, it was because it came to him in a new form. But now, his face was steady, and though his lips moved, it was in saying the prayers he had heard in faderland, and which he had learned at his old mother’s knee. The cold quicksand had risen above his thighs, and yet Jan seemed unmoved. Such calmness exasperated his enemy. He had expected to hear the Dutchman cry aloud for mercy; to beg him to help him; to humble himself for pity; but Jan did not think of that. His face was pale, but there was a kind of smile upon it.
“Cry for mercy!” shouted Jules, tauntingly. “Beg for your life!”
“No, Shules; off you have any pity in your heart, unt care enough for me to forget vat I did, unt save me, I vould pe glad. Put I don’t ask any t’ings from you.”
“You will die like a dog.”