The sand was soft and acted something like quicksand, too, and we hustled them to shore and tied them to some bushes.

The bank was steep there, and we didn't know how we were going to make the climb, but we left that to worry over afterward; we still had our rig to get ashore, and it began to look like quite a contract.
We went back, with our boot tracks going deep, and then filling up and settling back almost level six steps behind us.

Frosty looked back at them and scowled.
"For sand that isn't quicksand," he said, "this layout will stand about as little monkeying with as any sand I ever met up with.

Time we make a few trips over it, she's going to be pudding without the raisins.

And that's a picnic, with our rig on the main deck, as you might say." We went back and sat swinging our legs off the free board end of the ferry boat, and rolled us a smoke apiece and considered the next move.