Out yonder the doomed man saw the engulfing sand creeping up on a level
with his eyes. He tried to scream, but the sand shifted into his mouth.
In pitiable terror the poor fellow closed his mouth in order to delay
death for another moment. Even to call for help would now be swiftly
fatal!
Behind came the thunder of hoofs.
"Ropes!" shouted the horseman on Harry's mount.
He rode past the groups of men, close to the platform. Then, leaping
from the saddle, the rider tossed a small bundle of ropes at Harry's
feet. All were ropes and lines--not a raw-hide among them.
"There he goes! He's gone!" roared a score of frantic voices, as the
engulfed laborer sank out of sight in the sand.
Harry Hazelton feverishly uncoiled one of the ropes, gathering a few
folds in his right hand.
"Catch, Tom!" Harry shouted, making a cast.
The line swirled through the air, then settled on the sands.
"O-o-o-oh!" groaned Hazelton, for the rope had fallen four feet to one
side of Reade, and the latter, hemmed in as he was, could not reach it.
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