Scores of strong men, powerless to
help, watched hopelessly within a few yards of the two whose lives were
being slowly but surely snuffed out.
The laborer, whose carelessness or ignorance had caused all the trouble,
was now in the sand up to his mouth. The agonized watchers could see
him gradually sinking further.
"Keep up your nerve, friend!" called Tom, in cool encouragement. "We'll
soon have you out of that."
Gripping the lariat with both bands, Tom gave a strong, sudden wrench
and succeeded in drawing the imperiled man out of the sand a few inches.
Then the poor fellow began to settle again moaning piteously as he saw a
hideous death staring him in the face.
Tom Reade's own face was deathly white from a realization of the other's
peril. Of his own danger the young chief engineer had not once stopped
to think.
Harry Hazelton was again on his feet. That much Foreman Payson had
permitted, but strong-armed laborers stood on either side of the boy,
and their detaining grips were on his arm.
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