Ken stared at him. The thought popped into his head that Sandy’s mind might be wandering. A moment ago he had sounded completely beaten. Now Sandy was edging back toward the stove.
“What are you doing?” Ken demanded. “Sandy, stop!”
“Let me alone. I’m burning to get out of these things.” He lay down on his back in front of the stove and started to lift his legs into the air. “I’m not going to risk working on the ropes around my wrists,” he said. “Too tricky. I couldn’t see what I was doing and I might put my hands out of commission. And I’ll need ’em when we get out there to work that pump. But the ones around my ankles—”
Ken’s heart had stopped pounding in panic. In a sudden flash he had realized what Sandy was planning to do. He was going to burn through the ropes that bound his feet together.
“Can I help?” Ken leaned forward. “Maybe if I—”
“No,” Sandy grunted. “You stay where you are. But keep an eye on me. I can’t see very well from down here.” His feet were above the top of the stove now, and Sandy was lowering them carefully so that the ropes were directly above the metal edge. “How’m I doing?”
“Looks good from here. But be careful!”
New life sounded in both their voices now.
There was a low sizzling sound. The ropes had become damp from the water on the floor. Then again a scorching smell filled the cabin.
“Ouch!” Sandy yanked his legs away. “Too close that time.”