“You may remember,” began Dick, “that I have hands that somehow I can double up into a very small compass. Many a time you’ve tried to fasten my wrists together to see if I could get my hands free, and in nearly every case I did the trick by stretching the thongs a little, and then slipping a hand out.”
“Oh! now I begin to see what you hope to do, Dick; and, let me tell you, the skies look brighter already. I’m sure you can set your hands free, if only it doesn’t stop at that.”
“One step at a time, Roger; we mustn’t expect to run before we can walk. Once my hands are loose, it will be a queer thing if in some way I fail to set both of us free. But here comes several of the Indians this way, as though they mean to trice us up. Better hurry and eat that last bit of meat, if you wouldn’t lose it.”
“I suppose I’d better,” grumbled Roger, “but I don’t see why they want to be in such a dreadful hurry about tying us up. Ugh! a whole night of standing against a tree is something I don’t like at all.”
It turned out just as Dick had said, for the Indians indicated by signs that they wished the two boys to stand up and back against a couple of trees that happened to grow close together.
From the way in which the deerskin thongs were used to tie the captives to the trees it was evident that the braves had had long practice at this art. When they had used up all the hide rope, Dick and Roger were indeed in a helpless position, being bound hand and foot.
“This is about as hard as anything we ever went through, Dick,” remarked Roger, after the Indians had finished their task and left them there.
“Yes, that is very true, Roger, but I want to tell you that I can move one of my hands, and I’m starting to stretch this buckskin thong. After a short time I believe I can get my hands free.”
“That’s good news; and what next, Dick?”
“If only that brave doesn’t happen to remember that he stuck his knife into my tree right here, and return to possess himself of it, why, don’t you see how fortunate that is going to turn out for us?”