It had a soft, sandy bottom that felt very pleasing to his feet. Half-way over Will stopped to look about him.
"Say, now, that would make a dandy picture, with the water lazily swirling downstream, and the trees hanging over. I've a good notion to try it," he said.
Standing there, he set to work. Perhaps he was more than usually particular to get things just as he wanted them. Sometimes one can overdo this good trait, and Will came to that conclusion when, upon attempting to move on, he found to his surprise that his feet seemed locked, as in a vise.
When he tried to lift one, his entire weight falling upon the other seemed to push that one down several inches deeper.
"What does this mean? Why, the water is already up to my trousers! I guess I'll have to hitch them up higher, or get wet."
He was not at all excited, as yet, for the danger that menaced him had not come into his mind. He managed to accomplish the little task which he had set out to do, but by that time he was in up to his knees, and apparently still gradually going down, slowly but surely.
Now he could hardly move either foot, and as for pulling one of them out of the sucking sand, it seemed utterly impossible.
Will looked up. There was a stout limb of a tree just above him. If he could only get hold of that he might manage to draw himself out. Vainly did he stretch up his hands, for they fell short fully a dozen inches of touching the very nearest twigs of that friendly limb.
For the first time a cold chill began to chase up and down his spinal column.
"What if the boys fail to come along for half an hour! At this rate I'd be completely out of sight, and they'd never know what had become of me!" he exclaimed, in new horror.