The latter plucked up courage and drew out a knife from the other’s pocket.
“Open it,” said Alf.
This was not an easy task to one of his tender years, but after one or two efforts he succeeded.
“Excellent. Now go behind me and cut through the rope. Don’t be afraid, you won’t hurt me. Hack away as hard as ever you can. Ah, ah, we’ll show them a trick or two. That’s right—hack away.”
The celebrated rope trick, as practised by the Davenport brothers, and other impostors, was not known at this time—hence it was that the pinioned lad was powerless without assistance.
“Perseverance overcomes all obstacles,” is an old saying, and in the due course of time the rope was severed.
Young Purvis was once more free. He seemed to breathe again with fresh life. He threw the cords scornfully on the ground, unfastened the hare, and shook himself in a satisfactory sort of way.
“You’re a jolly good little fellow,” he exclaimed, giving his companion a penny by way of reward.
“I’m sorry I haven’t in my power to give you more, but I shan’t forget you. I’ll make it up some other time.”
The boy took the penny and looked wonderingly at the speaker, who presented altogether a different appearance.