"Yes."
"Out with it. We're going to whittle. Lucky for us that our knives are big and sharp. Hold a match while I mark out the spot we're going to try to cut out."
Tad had sounded the door with his fist until he found the place where the bar on the other side held it. He also discovered sockets for an inner bar, by which the hermit probably locked himself in at night. Then he began cutting.
"You start in here and keep to your side so you don't cut my hands," the lad directed.
The crunching sound of their knives began immediately, the work going on more slowly in the darkness than would have been the case had they had light. Now and then the lads would pause to listen. Not a sound penetrated to their prison. Tad thought this very strange, unless perhaps the hermit might be lying in wait to fall upon them in case they did succeed in freeing themselves.
"Say, Tad."
"Well?"
"I've got an idea." Chunky's knife had been silent for a few moments.
"What is it?"
"Let's burn down the old door."