The first article that Phil laid, his hands on was a short housewife’s paring knife. As he had been deprived of his own jackknife when searched behind the boche lines, he decided to appropriate this valuable kitchen tool to his own use and put it into a pocket of his coat. The next was a small wooden box, which the finder passed up to one of the fellows who reached down to receive it.
“Candles!” announced the latter eagerly, for there was no lid on it and the contents were plainly visible in the twilight.
“You don’t say!” exclaimed Phil, returning to the top of the stairway eagerly.
“You bet I do,” answered the other, holding up one of the sticks of molded wax. “There must be a dozen here.”
“What good will they do unless somebody has a match?” inquired Evans skeptically. “I bet there isn’t a match in this crowd.”
A hurried search by everybody present confirmed this bit of pessimism.
“Never mind,” said Phil quietly; “I’m going to light one of those candles without a match.”
CHAPTER XV
A LIGHT WITHOUT MATCHES
Phil’s proposition to light without a match one of the candles discovered in the cellarway of the probable former residence of a family of French refugees interested every one of his imprisoned companions. None of them was incredulous. All were sufficiently experienced in human resourcefulness to give attention to even a seemingly impossible scheme when it came from an intelligent young man under circumstances of urgent necessity. Indeed, one of them, suspecting at once the nature of Sergeant Speed’s plan, inquired quickly:
“How are you going to do it—rub sticks?”