Even in the short time the door had been open, the air had noticeably freshened. The place was filled with a dull, half light too. The semi-twilight revealed a big pile of boxes and bales in one corner of the place, but Sandy had no eyes for that. All he could see just then was the gaunt, hollow-eyed figure of Jack Dacre, staggering toward him.
"Courage, old chap," he exclaimed. "We've gained one step already."
"How on earth did that door get open?" gasped Jack, breathing the fresher air in great gulping sobs.
"Aweell now," grinned Sandy, "I guess that, unbeknownst to mysel', I must have whispered 'Open Sesame,' for the thing just swung open when I bumped against it."
The two lads were soon in the cabin, their minds busily at work as to how to free their hands. Suddenly Jack spied a bunch of keys hanging on the wall.
"Maybe some of those would fit," he suggested hopefully.
"Perhaps. We can try, anyhow. But how can we get them?"
"Easy enough. Like this."
Jack stood on tiptoe and seized the bunch in his teeth like a terrier seizing a rat. He dropped them on the table. Then came the problem of selecting one that would fit.
"This looks as if it might do," said Jack, literally "nosing" at a small, rusty key among the bunch.