"The first thing for me to do is to get these withes off my arms and wrists," he said, poking around with his feet for some sharp-cornered stone. "I've stood this—"
To his dismay, a figure approached in the gloom. There were just enough scattering rays of moonlight to show it, and its movements made certain the fact that he (the stranger) had discovered him.
"I shall have to use my feet," was the thought of Fred, as he braced himself; "and I will give him a kick that will do something—"
"Am dat you, leftenant?" came in the form of a husky whisper, as the figure stopped a few feet away and tried to peer through the gloom.
Fred Godfrey almost shouted with delight, for the question revealed the identity of Gravity Gimp.
"Thank Heaven!" was the exclamation of the young man. "I hadn't the remotest idea of meeting you, Gravity."
"Let's shake on it," chuckled the African, groping forward with his huge palm, which he shoved into the face of the pleased Fred, who said:
"If you'll be kind enough to cut these bonds that hold my arms immovable, I'll shake both hands."
"Of course; where am dey?" asked the equally happy negro, poking around with his immense jack-knife. "I'se so glorious dat you mus' 'scuse me if I cut off de wrong things. I can't hold myself. Dar, I knowed it!" he added, slashing away; "dat's your leg dat I have hold of, and I do b'leve dat I've cut it half off. Begs pardon, leftenant, and I'll hit it after a while."
But no such blunder had been committed, and, under the manipulation of the jack-knife, the withes that had bound the arms of Fred Godfrey were speedily cut, and he swung his hands about and sawed the air with great relief.