“My, what a dandy little place for a swim! I can undress down between these two high rocks and have a dip, then get back into my clothes again before Billy gets through with that nest!” said Paul to himself as he slid down the steep bank to the beach.
Once on the smooth sand the boy looked about. He was well-screened all right, and not a thing could he see beyond the high banks behind him.
“Just like a bath-house. Two rock walls, with some trees right behind and a peachy beach in front! No one’d ever dream of finding sand on this island of rocks and fir-grown boulders,” remarked Paul to himself, as he started to walk to the water’s edge.
“I’ll just see how far out this little sand strip runs—it may stop short just beyond and then drop down suddenly.”
As Paul bent over the sparkling water the better to scan the distance the sand ran out under the waves, he felt himself slowly sinking down to his ankles in the sand.
“Huh! This is funny. Never felt anything like it before,” murmured he, chuckling at the queer sensation of being sucked down.
By the time his legs were in to the shins, he started to wonder seriously, not yet dreaming of danger, however.
Not entirely liking the grip the sand seemed to have taken on his feet, Paul tried to back away but found he could not tear his feet out of its clutch.
“Let go! Let me get out, I say!” growled Paul to the quicksand, as he twisted and struggled to climb out of the mire.
The boy had not enough experience to know what to do in this emergency and being too far away from the other boys to be seen by them, he felt that he must manage to get free of the quagmire that was drawing him in deeper every moment.