"If I could only get free of these cords I might burst open the door," he thought. "Let me see what I can do."
Ralph struggled manfully, but it availed him but little. He was no great contortionist, and his efforts resulted only in a painful laceration of his wrists and ankles. Martin had done his work well, and the bonds could not be severed without outside aid.
Five minutes more went by—to poor Ralph they seemed an age. Then the boy fancied he heard a light footstep without.
"Hullo! where are yer?" came in a clear but subdued voice, which Ralph was sure he had heard before.
The cry was repeated several times. In the meanwhile Ralph changed his position and began to kick upon the door.
"In the kitchen closet, dat's where he is!" exclaimed the voice, and the patter of bare feet came toward Ralph's prison.
A second later the bolt on the door was shot back. A flood of light came into the place and Ralph beheld the face and form of the bootblack he had become acquainted with at the entrance to the post office.
"I t'ought so!" exclaimed the bootblack. "Say, he's a corker ter treat yer dis way, ain't he?"
Then he saw how Ralph was gagged and bound, and he gave a low whistle of surprise.
"Gee! What's dis, highway robbery?" he cried.