The mud-covered, rotten mat that he grasped broke through his fingers, and the dust descended into his face.

He grasped again, with the same result.

The branch was momentarily growing looser.

The leopard was ready.
Timokles grasped again--again--again! The rotten mats and the mud with which they had been plastered came away in great handfuls.

He could hardly see, for the descending dust.