In the midst of his burning pain he
held his legs rigid, pushed Leonard with one hand and pawed furiously
through the viscid tangle with the other.
The constancy of his companions braced Madden like a dash of ice water.
His own weakness had brought about this dangerous plight. The American
caught up his buoy, and between great gasps of the blessed air, rapped
out that he could go by himself, and began making his own way forward.
So the three worked themselves over the oozy bed of fire. The
Englishman's arms shot into the slime with the regularity of pistons. He
appeared to make no haste, yet he made remarkable speed. Only his
distended nostrils, pain-tightened mouth, grim eyes, showed that he was
in torture.
Even amid his own suffering Leonard felt a thrill of admiration for
Smith's endurance and working power. He even found time to wonder dimly
if Smith's people, that rich, cold, proud family, if they could see
their remittance man now, would not stoop to claim him as a kinsman.
All at once the poignant and disgusting attack of the insects ceased. A
flood of ecstatic relief swept over the adventurers. Without a word, all
three quit squirming, caught their floats under their armpits and swung
down in a limp luxurious rest.
Then they saw a marvelous thing had happened.
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