"He isn't in any danger," declared Arnold. "He's just wading around in the soft sand that was loosened by the explosion."
"Don't you believe it," urged Tom rising to his feet. "I believe the man's in serious trouble. It looks like quicksand."
"If Lopez would let us, I'd be in favor of helping him."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," volunteered Tom. "I'll make a running noose in this line I brought along. You boys cover Lopez with your guns and I'll go as close as I can and lasso Wyckoff. We can all get hold of the line then and maybe we'll be able to pull him out. It wouldn't be right to leave him there to go down."
At that moment Wyckoff seemed to realize his danger. He was, indeed, caught in the treacherous quicksand. No doubt the sand had been loosened by the explosion to such an extent that although quiet heretofore, it was now "quick," and was working to draw into its depths any object unfortunate enough to be in its grasp.
Like a thing of life the sand sucked and pulled at Wyckoff's feet. He felt himself being drawn into the terrible danger.
"Help. Help," he cried, flinging his arms toward the firmer ground. "Pete, give me a hand! I'm going down."
For answer Lopez flung his rifle up. A spurt of flame was his answer. Horrified, the boys expected to see Wyckoff drop. To their amazement Lopez had missed. Then they saw Wyckoff throw his knife straight at Lopez. It struck the man in the forehead.