"Keep cool, old chap!" came back the unconcerned answer. "It isn't half
bad out here. The sand feels really cool about one's body."
"This is no time for nonsense!" ordered Hazelton hoarsely. "Have you
the line fast?"
"Yes!" nodded Reade. "Haul away! Careful, but strong and steady!"
Under Foreman Payson's direction a score of men seized the other end of
the line and then began to haul.
Harry danced up and down in a frenzy.
"Tom, you idiot," he gasped. "You haven't made the line fast about
yourself."
"Not yet," came the cheery answer. "That wouldn't be fair play. Haul
away on our friend out yonder."
Tom Reade had knotted the line fast to his end of the rawhide lariat
that was tied under the shoulders of the engulfed laborer. It was
magnificent, though seemingly a useless sacrifice of his own life for
one who must already be dead.
From some of the workmen a faint cheer went up as the slowly incoming
line hauled the head of the unconscious laborer above the sand.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129