The prisoner had nothing more to say; but obligingly held his mouth open so that Jet might replace the gag, and after this had been done the boys wrapped themselves in their blankets, lying down in the softest spot they could find.
"How are we ever goin' to get the best of them fellers?" Jim whispered when they were ready to go to sleep.
"I don't know; but we must cook up some kind of a plan."
"Don't you think it would be better to send for the officers, an' let them do the job?"
"I'm afraid the fellows will make another move before anybody could get here. You heard what Sam said, and it shows he is so discontented that he'll be insisting on breaking camp very soon, unless he turns his back on this place entirely."
"That's all right enough; but at the same time I don't see that we can do anything without somebody to help us," Jim said, with a sigh, and then he rolled over as if determined not to rack his brain with the perplexing subject any longer.
Neither of the boys slept very soundly on this night. The fact of the prisoner in their midst, and the problem which they must solve shortly, prevented that feeling of restfulness which is necessary for profound slumber.
The sun had not yet risen when Jet awakened, shook Jim into consciousness, and made his toilet in the tiny stream which wound its way through the camp.
"We'll feed the prisoner the first thing, and then keep watch of the island," Jet proposed, and this task was performed as quickly as possible, neither captive nor jailors indulging in conversation during the operation.
There was to be no cooking, and the boys carried as much food as they thought would afford them a hearty meal to the edge of the water, they crouching behind the bushes with their gaze centered on the spot where they knew the camp to be located.