“But the moment he ceased to struggle he robbed the quicksand of its violence. He still sank indeed, but so slowly that at the end of an hour the sand had scarcely reached his breast. He reckoned that it would be three hours at least before the sand covered nose and mouth, but he knew that the tide would end it before that. Nevertheless, hope began to revive a little and again he looked around for aid, but he had evidently wandered some distance from the road, and the only persons passing were so far away that they did not perceive him nor hear his shouts. So again he resigned himself, and the thought even came to him to renew his struggles in order to bring the end more quickly. But he decided that this would be cowardly, if not sinful, and so waited quietly. He was relieved to see that his horse, struggling to the last, had sunk from sight, so that its sufferings were ended. “He closed his eyes and even dozed a little, for he had been exhausted by his previous efforts, but he was startled wide awake by a voice shouting. The sand had reached his armpits. His arms, extended in front of him, were covered. He turned his head with difficulty and saw a man standing at the edge of the quicksand. He was tearing off his doublet in desperate haste. “‘Do not venture into it!’ my father cried, comprehending his purpose. ‘I am past saving. Do not endanger yourself. Take a message for me--that is all I ask.’ “The other did not answer, but spread out his cloak before him and advanced across it. He sank somewhat, it is true, but his feet were not entangled in the sand. At the edge of his cloak he spread his doublet, stepped upon it and drew his cloak after him. But that moment almost proved his ruin, for he had sunk nearly to his knees before he got his cloak spread out again. My father watched him with bated breath as he freed himself and crept forward to the edge of it. “‘Your hand,’ said the stranger; and he stretched out his own. “My father disentangled one of his arms and grasped the hand extended to him. “‘Now,’ continued the other rapidly, ‘you must free yourself by one supreme effort. If we fail the first time it will be useless to try again. So we must not fail. Are you ready?’ “‘Yes,’ said my father, and with a mighty effort heaved himself up out of the sand. Yet he must have failed, must have sunk deeper than ever, but for that strong arm which helped him, drawing him up and forward to the edge of the cloak, which formed for a moment a little isle of safety. “But only for a moment. Already the sand was pouring over its edges and it was being rapidly engulfed. “‘We must get back without it,’ said the unknown. ‘Come.’ “Of the desperate struggle which followed my father never told me much--indeed I doubt if he remembered its details very clearly. They aided each other, encouraged each other, drew each other forward--each determined that the other should be saved--and at the end dropped exhausted, side by side, on the firm sand beyond.