er side of the boy,
and their detaining grips were on his arm.

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.

"Take your time and make a sure throw, Harry!" Tom called cheerily.

Again Hazelton made a throw--and failed.

"Let me, have that! My head's cooler," called Foreman Payson.

He made two quick, steady throws, but each shot wide of the mark.

"Let me have that!" screamed Harry, snatching the line away.

"There are lines enough. Two men might be making throws," spoke a quiet
voice behind them.

Payson nodded, and bent over for another line.

All trace of the doomed laborer had now disappeared. As for Tom, the
sand was reaching up under his arm-pits. The young chief engineer had
had the presence of mind to keep his arms free, but soon they too must
be swallowed up.

"Good throw--whoever sent it!" cheered Tom Reade, as a final
cast--Harry's--sent a line within six inches of his face.

Tom could not see those back at the platform, for his back was turned to
the eastward, and he could no longer swing his body about.

"Get it under your arms-quick, Tom, or you're done for, too!" screamed
Harry.

"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