"Can't you crawl out?" questioned Dick, running back.
"No, der mud vos like glue!" gasped Hans.
Tom came back also, and between them they managed to pull Hans from the sticky ooze, which was plastered over his trousers and shoes. The German lad gazed at himself ruefully.
"Now, ain't dot a nice mess?" he observed. "Vosn't I a beach!"
"Yes, but a pretty muddy one," laughed Dick. "But never mind now, come on. You can clean up when we get back."
The party soon reached a spot where the bushes grew in water several inches deep. Here, to avoid sinking in the mud, they had to make a wide detour.
"Listen!" cried Sam, presently, and held up his hand.
"What did you hear?" asked Harold Bird.
"I heard something as if somebody was walking through the brush yonder!"
"Maybe it was the men we are after!" cried Dick. "Come on!"