Then he stopped and waited for Ned during what seemed to be quite an age before the man joined him, breathing laboriously, and then they lay listening, but all was still. "Easy enough to escape, sir, if you make up your mind to it." "But we have not escaped yet, Ned," whispered Jack. "We ought to have waited till it was dark. Now then, I'll creep close to you. Try and put your hand in my pocket and take out the little knife I have there." It was harder to do than either of them had anticipated, and Ned suffered agony in one wrist as he strained to get at the knife with one hand, while the other was always in the way and kept it back. At last though he was successful and held it in triumph, but there was something more to do, for a closed blade was as bad as nothing. Still they say "where there's a will there's a way." Certainly there was will enough here, and by degrees Ned worked himself along so that he could hold the little clasp-knife to Jack's lips. These parted directly, so did his firm white teeth, and closed upon the blade, while Ned drew at the handle, with the result that the blade was opened a little. Then it was drawn from between Jack's teeth, and closed with a snap, when the work had to be gone over again. This time, trembling with excitement and dread lest at any moment the blacks might miss them, Jack closed his teeth with all his might upon the narrow portion of the blade awkwardly offered to him, held on at the risk of the ivory breaking, and Ned drew the handle away slowly, with the result that the strength of the spring was mastered, the knife half opened, and this done the rest was easy. Ned paused for a few moments to wrench his head round and gaze up the slope toward the savages' camp, then turning to Jack he laid the blade flat upon the back of his hand, and forced it under the thin cane which bound his wrists, having hard work to do it in his hampered position without cutting his companion's hands. "Now, sir," he whispered, "I'll turn the blade edge outwards, and you must work yourself up and down against it. Try now." Jack made an effort, which hurt his wrist horribly without doing the slightest good. "That won't do, sir," whispered Ned. "I can't help you half so much as by holding still. Now try again, not jigging as you did before, but giving yourself a regular see-saw sort of swing. Now then 'fore they wake. Off you go." It was agony. The back of the knife-blade seemed to be cutting bluntly down upon his wrist-bones, but setting his teeth hard, Jack forced himself downward and drew back. "That's the sort, sir. Don't do much, but it's doing something. If I had my hands free I could soon cut the withes. Keep it up." Setting his teeth harder, Jack kept on the sawing movement, apparently without avail, but the pain grew less as the edge of the blade cut into the cane. "It's of no use, Ned," whispered the lad. "Let's try to undo the knots with our teeth. I'll try on yours first."