“Oh—oh, fellows,” he faltered. “See if you can’t help me out of here. I—I’m stuck.”
“How’d you get there?” asked Jerry for want of something better to inquire about.
“I—I stopped my car too suddenly,” replied the bully trying to wipe some of the mud from his face with a still muddier hand. “It skidded, and I put on the brakes hard, and I was flung out.”
“You didn’t pick out a very good place to land in,” grimly remarked Bob.
“Guess he didn’t have time,” suggested Ned.
“Oh, aren’t you going to help me out?” begged Noddy.
“Do you mean help you out, or your car?” asked Jerry. “Why can’t you wade over to solid ground? Then we’ll help you pull out your car. That’s stuck pretty bad too.”
“No, I—I can’t wade out,” replied Noddy helplessly. “I’m in a sort of muck, or quicksand. Everytime I try to take a step I go in deeper. I need a board or a fence rail, or—or something to help me. Oh, please, fellows—I know I’ve been mean to you—but forgive me and help me out!”
“It’s about time you got wise to the fact that you did us some mean turns,” spoke Ned. “How about splashing mud on us a little while ago?”
“I’m sorry I did that.”