The Dare Boys in VirginiaCox, Stephen Angus Douglas
History
The Dare Boys in Virginia
Cox, Stephen Angus Douglas
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
Now just by the force from his arms, must he throw his body across that
distance, and more, for he must needs grasp the other limb at a point
where it was sizable enough to bear his weight. He would make the
attempt, anyway, for if he could get across this open space, the trees
were close together beyond, and he would not have much difficulty in
continuing the trip to the mainland.
So he began swaying his body back and forth, like a pendulum, till he
got it swinging at a lively rate, and then he suddenly hurled himself
through the air, letting go of the limb at the same moment, and making
an effort to grasp the limb on the other tree.
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.
[Illustration: He was held as if by giant hands.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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