“Yes, you are now, but the next time you get the chance you’d do the same thing,” declared Jerry.
“No, honest I won’t!” promised Noddy, and he was in earnest—at least for the time being.
“Well, you don’t deserve to have us help you out, but we can’t see you in this plight without doing something,” went on Jerry. “Try once more to pull yourself out. I don’t fancy getting all covered with mud.”
Noddy tried, but it was of no use. The more he struggled to free himself, the deeper he sank, and he was evidently very much alarmed—so much so that he began to blubber.
“Oh, now, stop bellowing, and we’ll help you,” cried Ned, much disgusted by the cowardice of the bully. “Come on, fellows, get some fence rails, and we’ll see what we can do.”
The rails were brought, and extended to Noddy in a sort of criss-cross platform to support him. In placing them our friends got in the mud over their shoes, but there was no help for it. Presently Noddy was able to bear part of his weight on the rails, and then, by a vigorous effort, he managed to pull his legs loose from the grip of the sticky mud. He crawled out on the firm ground, a worse looking sight than Jerry and his chums had seen for many a day.
“Look at me!” gasped Noddy in dismay, as he glanced down at his legs. “Look at me—Oh!—Oh! It’s—it’s—awful!”
“Better look for a clean puddle of water and roll in it,” advised Ned, trying not to smile.