WILL was but a few seconds in getting the necessary rope out of the cuddy. Then, taking an oar with him, he followed Reube as fast as he could run, casting wary eyes at the oily patches which were dotted around his path.
The wretch in the honey pots had evidently no thought that his enemies would attempt his rescue. When he saw them approaching he thought they came to mock him or to gloat over his last agony, and he nerved himself to control the terror which had unmanned him. Then he saw the boat hook, the oar, the rope, and he knew that these meant help if help were possible. A wild hope, mixed with wonder, lit up his deep-set eyes. Could it be that Reube Dare would try to save him after all that he had done? To let him perish would be just, and so easy and so safe. To help him would be perilous indeed, for no one could go among the honey pots without taking his life in his hands; and yet here was Reube, here was that interfering Carter chap, running toward him as if there were no such things as honey pots. He could not understand it. The deadly mud was sucking, sucking, sucking at his feet, his knees, his thighs. It was like dumb, insatiable tongues of strange monsters curling about him. Nevertheless, he half forgot the horror in a new feeling which broke upon his spirit, and this emotion spoke in his eyes as Reube arrived at the edge of the honey pot. Reube saw it, and it insensibly softened his voice as he said:
“Keep up your nerve now, and we’ll get you out all right.” At the same time he stretched out the boat hook, which Mart grasped with desperate strength, pressing it to his breast with his one sound arm.
Flinging all his weight into the pull, Reube surged mightily on the boat hook. But his utmost force produced no effect. The pull of the twisting mud was mightier. Instead of extricating Gandy, even by an inch, he found himself sinking. He was on treacherous ground. With a quick wrench he freed the leg that was caught by dragging it from its boot. Then, leaving the boot where it was, he ran around to the other side of the honey pot and felt for firm standing ground.
As he did so, Will came up breathing quickly.
“Be keerful on your right!” cried Gandy, sharply, and Will sprang aside, just avoiding a bad spot.
“Thanks, Gandy,” he remarked, in a casual way, as if Gandy had picked up his hat for him or handed him a match. Then he flung a coil of rope, saying:
“Fix the end of that under your arms; fix it firm, so that it won’t slip.”
Then he went round the honey pot to where Reube was standing, with pale brow knitted closely.
“What are we going to do?” asked Reube. “I can’t budge him.”