"Oh, dear, you mustn't expect me to tell any secrets to a fellow who won't join in with us," said Dave.
"Maybe after a little solitude you will be willing to talk," observed Schmitt-Schmitt meaningly.
"All right--we'll see," said Dave, with affected unconcern.
Dave's eyes sparkled as Schmitt-Schmitt began to blink. He was delighted as the man fell back drowsily in the chair.
"Now's my chance," said Dave, as a prolonged snore announced the complete subjugation of Schmitt-Schmitt to the influence of the drug.
Dave did some brisk moving about. He managed to get to a cupboard. He could not reach his own pocket knife. In the cupboard he found a case knife and set at work sawing away the ropes that bound him.
He laughed at his rare success, as stretching his cramped limbs he went outside for a moment.
"I don't want to delay," he thought. "That signal may bring the pilot at any moment, and that means two to handle instead of one. This is just famous. Better than I planned out. How shall I get Schmitt-Schmitt to the raft?"
Dave found an old wicker mattress on the rude porch of the hut. It had rope ends to attach as a hammock. He took the precaution to tie Schmitt-Schmitt's wrists and ankles together with ropes.
Then Dave dragged the insensible man from his chair across the floor and let him down flat on the wicker mattress.