He did get hold of the limb, but at a point too near the end, and the limb, being too small, slipped through his fingers and down he shot, striking the quagmire with a thud, and sinking to his knees.
An exclamation of dismay escaped Dick’s lips. He looked around him, for something to get hold of to stay his sinking into the bog, but there was nothing within reach that he could catch hold of. Not even a clump of bushes was near. He was in an open space perhaps thirty feet square, and there was no tree closer than twenty feet.
Dick then began trying to pull his legs out of the bog, but found he could not do so. The harder he worked, the faster he seemed to sink into the quagmire, and after a few moments of strenuous effort, in which he failed to loosen either limb, but in fact found each leg deeper in the bog, he desisted. His face perspiring profusely, he stood there panting for breath as a result of his strenuous exertions, and gazed about him, hoping to see some means by which he might extricate himself from the dangerous predicament in which he had fallen.
But there was nothing that seemed to offer any promise of assistance, and he began struggling again, only to desist after a few moments, realizing how foolish was the attempt, for every effort he put forth only served to sink him deeper in the boggy quicksand.
Down he sank, slowly and gradually, till he was up to his waist in the relentless and encompassing sands. Then, realizing that he was unable to extricate himself, Dick, because of his utterly helpless situation, gave vent to a despairing cry and called loudly for help.
Again and again he called, but there came no response. All remained quiet around him. There was no sign or likelihood of assistance from any source. And by now he had sunk till he was halfway from his waist to his armpits. He was held as if by giant hands, and he realized that he could not escape without assistance--and help was certainly not forthcoming.
He was held as if by giant hands.
Dick Dare had been in lots of tight places in his life, but never had he been in the danger that threatened him now. He felt that he was doomed, that he would go to a terrible, horrible death, there beneath the smothering slime of the boggy quicksand. He thought of the loved ones at home, of his brother, his comrades, and the great Cause for which he was to offer up his young life. Now he was to be blotted out and no one would ever know the awful nature of his death.