“You’ve hit it about right,” answered Phil. “But it’s getting dark, and we’ve got to hustle if we’re going to be able to do anything. Any of you fellows got a knife?”
There was not a pocketknife among them. All had been thoroughly searched after being brought back behind the enemy lines.
“Well, never mind,” said Phil. “I found a strong paring knife in the cellarway and it seems to be pretty sharp. Now, here is what I want: Several of you fellows hunt about over the floor and woodwork and see if you can find a loose board. If you can get hold of a loose end of a board rip it up.”
“You don’t need to rip up any boards,” called out one of the fellows from an adjoining room. “Here’s half a dozen short pieces—probably meant as kindling for the fireplace.”
“Good!” exclaimed the volunteer fire-maker. “Bring them here near the window.”
The comrade did as requested. A few moments later Phil had selected one of the short boards and split it on his knee.
“I’m going to make a bow out of this,” he announced, as he began to whittle. “Some of you fellows take these shavings and shred them against something. I’ll need some punk to catch the sparks in.”
“There’s a brick fireplace in the next room,” said Dan. “Some of the bricks are loose and we can pull out a couple and shred the whittlings between them.”
“Good again,” pronounced the leader of the enterprise. “Now one of you can help a whole lot by tying two or three shoestrings together for a string of the bow I am preparing. Make the knots as small as you can.”
“That isn’t necessary,” a young fellow named Barber interposed. “I have a stout cord five or six feet long that will suit your purpose fine. I picked it up in camp a few days ago and put it in my pocket, thinking it might come handy sometime.”