Match after match was used. There were not many in the box. Before the supply was completely exhausted, Harry strained with his ankles. The rope parted. Moving his ankles up and down, Harry freed them.
He rose and walked to the door. It was locked from the outside. He went to the window, and managed to raise it behind his back.
With considerable difficulty he let himself out, and stumbled to the ground.
He could see the dim outline of the one-story shack in which he had been kept prisoner. Now his purpose was to get away from the vicinity.
Harry had brought his coat with him. If he could only remove the rope from his aching wrists, he would be a free man.
He worked with the pockets of his coat. He had carried a knife there, but it was gone now. His flashlight was also missing. His captor must have removed those articles. But Harry could feel his wallet in the inside pocket.
* * *
He moved carefully along a path which his feet could feel, but which his eyes could not distinguish in the darkness. Next, he reached a road, and followed it.
The night was cloudy, but there was sufficient starlight for him to find his way along. Harry was fortunate in choosing the right direction; for after half a mile he came to a highway.
He saw a wooden gate which opened between two stone walls. A tin sign had been tacked to the top rail, and projected above the wooden bar. With difficulty, Harry managed to perch himself upon the gate, which, he found, was fortunately steady.