Part 23 (1/2)

”Let me have that rope you are carrying, Tom,” said d.i.c.k, and having received the article, he threw one end to Hans, who was still floundering around. ”Catch hold, Hans, and I'll haul you over!”

As the rope fell across the German youth's body, he caught it tightly in both hands, and, as d.i.c.k, Tom and Sam pulled with might and main, he fairly slid on his breast to where they were standing.

”Mine gracious, dot vos somedings awful!” he exclaimed. ”It vos so sticky like mola.s.ses alretty!”

”Now, we must help the others,” said d.i.c.k.

”Songbird is out,” exclaimed Sam.

The rope was thrown to Fred, and with a great tug he was finally brought out of the ooze.

”Nearly took my hand off,” he declared. ”But I don't care--anything is better than to be stuck in such a spot as that.”

The horses were still floundering desperately, and it was little that they could do for the beasts. One went in one direction and the others in another, but at last all appeared to be safe, although covered with the sticky mud and slime.

”That's an adventure I didn't bargain for,” was Tom's comment. ”Do you know what I think? I think that cowboy sent us into this on purpose.”

”Maybe he did,” came from d.i.c.k. ”Did it, I suppose, to get square because we didn't pay him all he thought the steer was worth.”

To round up the horses was no easy task, and by the time this was accomplished it was long past dark. They searched around for a suitable spot and then went into camp.

”This trip is lasting longer than I expected,” remarked d.i.c.k when they were around the camp-fire preparing an evening meal. ”I trust the others don't get worried about us.”

”Oh, I guess they know that we can take care of ourselves,” answered Tom.

”I wish I had that cowboy here,” muttered Sam. ”I'd give him a piece of my mind.”

”I think we'd all do that,” added Fred.

”I vos gif him a biece of mine mind from der end of mine fist,” said Hans, and this made them all laugh.

The camping spot was not a particularly good one, yet all slept soundly. They left Wags on guard, but nothing came to disturb them.

It was misty in the morning and so raw that they s.h.i.+vered as they prepared to start off. How to proceed was a question, and it took them a good quarter of an hour to decide it.

”It would be folly to go deeper into this bog, or swamp,” said d.i.c.k.

”I vote we keep to the high ground.”

”That's the talk,” said Sam. ”Maybe, when we get up far enough, we will have a chance to look around us.”

As well as they were able, they had cleaned off the horses and themselves, and now they took good care to keep from all ground that looked in the least bit treacherous.

”Here is a new trail,” cried Tom after about two miles had been covered. ”And it seems to lead up a hill, too.”

”Then that is the trail for us,” put in Songbird, and they took to the new trail without further words.

”Songbird, I don't hear any poetry,” observed d.i.c.k as they rode along.

”What's the matter?”