“Of course there is a bottom,” remarked the naturalist, who had been watching the boys curiously; “but in some places I’ve been unable to reach it with the longest pole I could manage.”
“Have we passed that dangerous place you were telling us about, sir?” asked Mr. Witherspoon.
“No, it is still some little distance ahead,” came the reply.
“If it’s much worse than right here I wouldn’t give five cents for their chances,” declared George.
“Hark!” exclaimed Tom just then.
“What did you hear?” cried Carl.
“It sounded like voices to me, though some distance off, and coming from further along the trail,” the patrol leader asserted.
“They may be stuck in the mire and trying every way they can to get out,” observed the naturalist. “Let us give them a shout, boys. Now, all together!”
As they all joined in, the volume of sound must have been heard a mile away. Hardly had the echoes died out than from beyond came loud calls, and plainly they heard the words “Help, help! Oh! come quick, somebody! Help!”