Then he began sawing it up and down, at an expense of some little skin from his knuckles, and at the end of five minutes he felt one of the strands give and break. Then, with a mighty effort, he succeeded in breaking the entire rope, and the liberation of his hands at once became easy.
“Now, if you come down here, Badger, you’ll meet with a warmer reception than before,” he determinedly muttered, while he set to work at the ropes around his ankles.
In three minutes his limbs also were free, and Nick coolly tossed the ropes aside.
“Next, to find a way out of here,” was his mental comment.
He had observed that no window existed, and he had but little hope of being able to force the heavy door, having been deprived of his knife and revolver.
After examining the door, to which he groped through the darkness, he decided that he could accomplish nothing there.
The constant dripping of the water could still be heard, however, and Nick now shrewdly reasoned:
“That water must have some avenue of escape, and it may run under the foundation wall in that corner. If it does, the soil should be soft and muddy, and I may be able to dig my way out, or, at least, to work under the wall and learn what lies beyond it. I’ll give it a try, at all events.”
As he groped toward the corner, he stumbled over one of the empty beer-kegs previously mentioned.
“Ha! here’s just the thing, providing I can smash it,” he said to himself. “One of these oak staves will serve admirably for a spade.”