8/11 This is the piece I hung my jacket on, but it has sunk down. No, no," I cried; "I forgot; it is the bottom of the hole that has filled up. The sand has come up all this way. Keep back." I had turned on my hands and knees and was tearing out the sand just below the projecting piece of sand-rock. "You'll make more come down and cover us up." "My jacket is buried down here," I cried, and I worked away feeling certain that I should find it, and at last, in spite of the sand coming down almost as fast as I tore it out, I scratched and scraped away till, to my great delight, I got hold of a part of the jacket and dragged it out. |