But before the end of a half-hour, Stoddard managed to free one arm, and reaching into his jacket he drew forth a small, compact metal object—his cigarette lighter.
Twirling the wheel, while Professor Prescott held his breath, he succeeded in kindling a flame on its tiny wick.
If only he could reach the thongs with it! If only he could burn them through and free himself and the professor before any of the pigmies re-entered that lethal chamber!
Wrenching around now, he applied the flame to his left wrist, which was still bound. As the living fire touched his flesh, he winced with pain, but almost anything was better than the grisly fate that threatened.
Slowly, a little at a time, he endured the torture, straining at each application to see if the thongs would yield.
"Here, let me try it once!" called out Professor Prescott, as he cried aloud with the agony of the ordeal.
"No. I'll get it!" Stoddard gritted his teeth, continued. "There! I think my hand is free!" He struggled. "Yes. Now wait!"
Replacing his cigarette lighter in his pocket, he drew his blistered wrist from its smouldering bonds and struggled feverishly now to undo the lashes about his feet.
Five minutes of that and suddenly he flung them off and stood up.
"Now! Now then, Professor. I'll have you loose in a jiffy!"