Dick stepped to the door and pushed against it. Although rust encrusted the iron plates, yet the door rigidly resisted his push upon it.
"We might blow the door down with a stick of dynamite," said Dick, "but that's the only way we could do the trick, mate. I'm a Fiji if——"
"Look!" came hoarsely from Matt; "on the floor, there, off to the left of you!"
The flame of the match was eating close to Dick's fingers, but in the last, dying glow he swerved his eyes in the direction indicated by Matt, and an astonishing duplicate of Yamousa's second smoke picture burst on his eyes.
On the brick floor lay a man with gray hair and gray mustache, bound hand and foot and gagged.
It seemed to Matt and Dick as though they were again in the hut by the bayou and peering into the smoke arising from the earthen jar under the spell of Yamousa.
"Townsend!" gasped Dick.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
THREE IN A TRAP.