t moonlight he
could keep tabs on the trails, or he might be lying near at hand; Bob
had no means of telling. Certainly, again the young man reluctantly
acknowledged to himself, Saleratus Bill knew his job!

Nevertheless, as the days slipped by; and Bob's physical strength
returned in its full measure, his active and bold spirit again took the
initiative. A slow anger seized possession of him. The native combative
stubbornness of the race asserted itself, the necessity of doing
something, the inability tamely to submit to imposed circumstances.
Bob's careful analysis of the situation as a whole failed to discover
any feasible plan. Therefore he abandoned trying to plan ahead, and fell
back on those always-ready and comfortable aphorisims of the
adventurous--"sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," and "one
thing at a time." Obviously, the first thing to do was to free his arms;
after that he would see what he would see.

Every evening Saleratus Bill took the candle and departed, leaving Bob
to find his own way to his bunk. This was the time to cut his bonds; if
at all. Unfortunately Bob could find nothing against which to cut them.
Saleratus Bill had carefully removed every abrasive possibility in the
two rooms. Bob very wisely relinquished the idea of passing the
threshold in search of a suitable rock or piece of tin. He had no notion
of risking a bullet until something was likely to be gained by it.

Finally his cogitations brought him an idea. Saleratus Bill was
attentive enough to such of the simple creature comforts as were within
his means. Bob's pipe had been well supplied with tobacco. On the fourth
evening Bob filled it just as his jailor was about to take away the
candle for the night.

"Just a minute," said Bob. "Let me have a light."

Bill set the candle on the table again, and retired the three paces
which he never forgot rigidly to maintain between himself and his
captive. Bob thereupon lit his pipe and nodded his thanks. As soon as
Saleratus Bill had well departed, however, he retired to his bunk room,
shutting the door carefully after him. There, with great care, he
deliberately set to work to coax into flame a small fire on the old
hearth, using as fuel the rounds of a broken chair, and as ignition the
glowing coal in the bowl of his pipe. Before the hearth he had managed
to hang the heavy quilt from his bunk, so that the flicker of the flames
should not be visible from the outside.

The li