He tried to throw himself across the floor of the cave to reach Dan, by his action forcing the cords deeper into his own flesh.
And then Dan Speedwell flung himself over and over on the floor, still silent but in evident agony. His hands, however, were free!
“Oh, Dan! Dan!” sobbed Billy. “What have you done?”
He wouldn’t have cried for himself; but that his brother should have sacrificed himself in this way cut Billy to the heart.
“I know what I’ve done,” said Dan, shakenly, at length sitting up and trying to get a hand into his trousers pocket. “I know what I’ve done. I’ve made a chance for us to get free. Shut up your bawling, Billy! Somebody had to do it.”
He got out the knife, despite his burned wrist—and the burn was deep and angry. The skin of both wrists for at least half the way around was scorched.
Dan’s face worked with pain as he opened the blade, then cut the cords that bound his own ankles, using both hands. It hurt him dreadfully to use his hands at all.
But he was free, and he proceeded at once to free the other boys. Billy fairly hugged him, when once his arms were loose again.
“Oh, Dan! you’re the best fellow—the very best one!—who ever lived,” he cried. “I wouldn’t have had the pluck to do that——”
“Shucks!” grunted Dan. “Yes, you would. You didn’t just happen to think of it. We’ve got to get out of here quick, it seems to me; we couldn’t wait for rescue.”