“I guess that’s fairly good philosophy but not very consoling,” the boy thought as Pierre left him and crawled into his bunk.
Jack knew from past experience, for once before he had been tied up in a similar manner, that his position would be extremely painful before morning.
It had begun to get dark before Pierre started to tie him and soon he was unable to see even across the room. He had no way of telling the time but it seemed to him that several hours must have passed when he heard the call of one whip-poor-will.
“Bob’s here,” he thought.
Bob’s imitation of the bird call was so nearly perfect that probably not one in a hundred would have doubted its genuineness but Jack recognized the slight shade of pitch which his brother always put into the last note.
“If I only dared answer him,” he thought and he groaned aloud as he thought of his helplessness.
But it cheered him to know that Bob was near even though he doubted his ability to help him.
Several times the call was repeated and then a few minutes later Jack’s heart gave a bound as he heard a faint tapping near the window at the back of the cabin. Eagerly he listened. The sound was so faint that he could barely hear it but in a minute it became plainer. Yes, it was Bob and he was tapping a message in Morse.
“J-A-C-K I-F Y-O-U A-R-E H-E-R-E, C-O-U-G-H.”
Jack coughed as loudly as he dared.