For hours he hung suspended in the ooze. When he judged that there had been time enough for the liquid to harden into glass, he extended his hand toward it.
His groping fingers found a strong, smooth rod fused to the rock above.
Hand over hand he made his way up, forcing himself through the heavy ooze. When he reached the top, he crawled out, half dead and staggered to firm ground.
He stumbled. But he saw at a glance that he had drifted far from the place where he had fallen in. The space ship was several hundred yards away, completely hidden by a hill.
A few feet more, he staggered and stumbled into a dank pool. He took off the space helmet and drank deeply and crammed some concentrated food pills into his mouth.
His muscles were sore and weary. He knew he had to rest. He found the coolness of a cave. Hardly had he dropped to the sandy floor when he fell into an exhausted sleep.
For hours he lay and his body regenerated its youthful vitality.
He stirred restlessly in his sleep when he felt the pressure of another hand on his. He sat up abruptly, on guard.
A freckled boy's face was looking down on him with wonder in the blue eyes. "Captain Rawson, sir," Seymour said. "I was explorin' and found you here. Gee, sir, how did you escape out of the quicksand?"