“I have the key to the gate!” he declared. “But I am not permitted to surrender it. You must take it from me.”
“You’re loyal to some one, anyhow!” exclaimed Sam, beginning a search of the fellow’s pockets.
At last the key was found, and Sam hurried away with it. He knew then that there would be no further necessity for guarding the prisoner at that time. The fact that the hostile savages were abroad and that he was without weapons would preclude any attempt at escape.
At first the young man found it difficult to locate the lock to which the key belonged. At last he found it, however, and in a moment Jimmie crept out of the chamber, trying his best to carry Carl in his arms.
“Here!” cried Sam. “Let me take the boy. Are you hurt yourself?” he added as Jimmie leaned against the wall.
“I think,” Jimmie answered, “one of the brutes gave me a nip in the leg, but I can walk all right.”
Sam carried Carl to the center of the corridor and laid him down on the marble floor. A quick examination showed rather a bad wound on the left shoulder from which considerable blood must have escaped.
“He’ll be all right as soon as he regains his strength!” the young man cried. “And now, Jimmie,” he went on, “let’s see about your wound.”
“It’s only a scratch,” the boy replied, “but it bled like fury, and I think that’s what makes me so weak. Did we get all the jaguars?” he added, with a wan smile. “I don’t seem to remember much about the last two or three minutes.”
“Every last one of them!” answered Sam cheerfully.