His first idea was to give warning of the danger, but he dared not call, and Jem was apparently beyond hearing of the rustling and panting noise which could still be heard.
Directly after Don determined to wrest his arm away, and dart back into the darkness.
But the hand which held him still gripped with a force which made this impossible; and in despair and dread he was about to fling himself down, when Jem came gliding up out of the darkness, and touched his cold, wet face.
“I’ve found the post, Mas’ Don!” he whispered.
Don caught him with his disengaged hand, and placed Jem’s against the arm which held him.
For a few moments Jem seemed unable to grasp the situation, for nothing was visible. Then he placed his lips once more close to Don’s ear.
“Wait a moment till I’ve opened my knife.”
“No, no,” whispered Don in a horrified tone. “It is too dreadful.”
“Then let’s both try together, and wrench your arm away.”
A peculiar hissing sound came at that moment from the outside of the pah, and Don felt his arm jerked.