minutes ere the slimy ooze would close over his head. It was a
situation that demanded instant action. For a moment Charley stood
silent beside the captain gazing hopelessly at his doomed chum. Then
he turned swiftly and darted away like an arrow.

"Throw branches, boughs, anything that is light," he shouted back; "I
am going to get the canvas painters."

Frantically the old sailor tore down dead limbs and flung them to the
entombed lad. His labor was in vain, for as each branch struck the
quagmire its own weight sunk it out of sight in the liquid mud.

"Better give it up, Captain," advised Walter, cheerfully. "They are
doing no good, and Charley will soon be back with the ropes."

The captain measured the distance to the helpless lad with a practised
eye, and groaned in despair. "They'll fall short by a dozen feet," he
murmured hopelessly. "God forgive me, for bringing him to this plight."

In a moment Charley was back with the painters from the two canvas
canoes knotted together. His first toss confirmed the captain's fears,
the rope foil ten feet short.

Charley's face grew sickly pale under the torch light, and he stood for
a space like one in a daze. The captain near him was kneeling praying
fervently.

Of the three, Walter was the coolest. He had resigned himself to his
fate at the failure of the first cast of the rope. Already the mire
had sucked him down so that he had to throw his head far back to keep
the filthy stuff from entering his mouth.

"Good-bye, old chums," he called cheerfully, "we've made our last camp
together. Don't feel too down, Charley. Remember what the jockeys
say, 'There's nothing to a race but the finish.'"

Charley roused from his momentary trance. "You shan't die," he cried
wildly, "you shan't, you shan't,--you shan't."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BATTLE.

All around the quagmire were the skeletons of what had once been great
lusty trees with far-spreading limbs. As Charley uttered his defiance,
his glance rested for a moment on the most advanced of these and a
gleam of hope lit up his face. Although this dead giant of the island
was many feet from the sinking lad, yet in its youth it had sent out
nearly over him one long, slender, tapering limb. In a second
Charley's quick eyes had taken in the possibility and the risk, the
next moment he had skirted round the quagmire at the top of his speed
and was swinging up the giant trunk.

The captain was not slow i