For a moment or two this helped, for he was able to breathe, but soon the smoke was everywhere and Bob knew that he would have to move.
Was he to die, trapped like a rat? Was this the end of his adventure? It looked very much like it. But something would not let him give up. He would make one more attempt for his life and liberty.
Struggling to his feet, his eyes almost blinded, smarting with the sting of the smoke, he dashed headlong into the flaming door.
He bounced back, not knowing that his clothes were afire in several places. Instinctively he charged again.
This time a crash, a splintering of the wood was the result. Once more he dived into it and the next moment he was in the gray air of the early dawn.
Stumbling, panting, he ran around the corner of the hut, urged by the knowledge that he was afire. Luckily the river nearly touched the back wall of the hut that had been his prison. A few steps and he fell face downward in the shallows.
CHAPTER XVII
DYNAMITE!
In the cool water, Bob soon forgot his hurts. Coming out on the shore he took stock of the damage that had been done. His hands were sore and stinging sensations from different parts of his body told him that he had not come off scot-free. Such clothes as he had on were ruined and he knew that in all probability he was such a sight that his own father would not have recognized him if they had met face to face.