uff?

He tried it, tried with every atom of strength left in his body; but
the effort was a dismal failure. This seemed to be the finishing
stroke. Larry had managed to keep his spirits up fairly well,
believing that he might somehow drag himself out of his difficulty.

"I can't hardly move," he said to himself, hoarsely. "I'm stuck for
fair, and all the while going down, down, slowly but surely. Oh! my
goodness! what can I do?"

Looking up he saw that the largest branch was still within reach. A
last wild hope flashed upon him--would it be possible for him to seize
hold of this, and draw himself out of the hole?

He no sooner conceived this idea than he set about carrying it into
execution. Securing a good grip, he started pulling. Strain as he
would, he could not gain a particle. The only thing at all encouraging
was that while he thus clung to that branch, he did not sink any lower!

Minutes passed. They seemed hours to that imperiled lad. His muscles
certainly grew sore with the continuous strain of holding on so
desperately, and fighting against the awful suction of the greedy mud.

How long could he hold out? Not many minutes more, he feared, for he
was pretty close to the point of exhaustion now. And when nature
refused to longer battle for his life he must yield to his fate.

Larry groaned at the outlook before him. Would his chums ever come?
Were they still lying around the camp, filled with confidence that the
hunter could redeem his boastful words, and return with the greatest of
ease? Oh! what a fool he had been to start out alone. Never again
would he fancy himself a woodsman, if he were lucky enough to get out
of this horrible scrape.

Facing such a serious outlook it was little wonder then that Larry
again burst out into shouts, that were hardly more than a mockery, it
seemed to him, so hoarse had his voice become, and so incapable of
serving him.

But nevertheless those shouts had served their purpose, and reached the
listening ears of his comrades.

CHAPTER IX

THE SECOND NIGHT OUT

"Hold fast! we'll soon have you out of that muck!" called Phil, after
he and Tony McGee arrived at the edge of the quagmire, where poor Larry
was up to his waist in the oozy mud.

Their coming had given the imperiled lad new vim; it seemed to him as
though his muscles were renewed, and that he could keep on gripping
that branch everlastingly now, such was the fresh faith that took the
pl