“He went off to fetch the others,” said Joe, growing suddenly eager and hopeful now that rescue seemed near. “They are going to do something awful to me because I wouldn’t——”
“Yes, yes, Joe, I know. But now be quiet,” cried Dorothy, as she propped him up against the wall and began to work feverishly at the knots of the heavy cord that bound his feet and hands. “Some one might hear you and—oh, we must get away from here before they come back!”
“Here, I have something better than that,” cried Tavia, who had been watching Dorothy’s clumsy efforts to unloose Joe’s bonds.
She fished frantically in the pockets of her jacket and brought forth a rather grimy ball of cord and a penknife. This she held up triumphantly.
“A good sight better than your fingers!”
“Oh, give it to me, quickly,” cried Dorothy, reaching for the knife in an agony of apprehension. “Oh, it won’t open! Yes, I have it!”
With the sharp blade she sawed feverishly at the cords.
They gave way one after another and she flung them on to the floor of the cave.
Joe tried to get to his feet, but stumbled and fell.
“Feel funny and numb, kind of,” he muttered. “Been tied up too long, I guess.”