The exclamation came sharply as he plucked out the candle and threw it to the floor. Luckily it did not go out, for the next instant he realized that he would have to use its light. Hastily he made his way to the inventor's side. A few quick slashes of the knife, and Mr. Varian stood free, words of gratitude on his lips and a light of admiration in his eyes. Ned hastily checked the other's words. "Time for action now, sir," he said briskly. "Can you run an auto?" "Can you tie a running bowline?" smiled the inventor, who now seemed as cool as ice. Ned grinned appreciatively. If all went well, the next step of his hastily contrived plan of escape could be carried out. "One moment, sir," begged Ned, as the inventor whispered: "What next?" The boy was over at the side of the keg and rummaging there, it seemed. "For Heaven's sake, don't waste time on that, my lad," urged the inventor. "Let us make a dash for it. Those men may be near at hand." "All in good time, sir; but I want to cinch these rascals if we can and cinch them good and tight!" "But why waste time on that powder barrel?" "Powder barrel nothing---- I mean, it's not a powder barrel, sir." "What?" "That's right. Look here!" Ned held up a handful of papers which he had extracted from the keg. "When I said 'bluffed' just now, that's what I meant. But, Mr. Varian, we've called their bluff with these!" "These" were papers which seemed to be maps of different places carefully marked and figured, and other diagrams of different kinds. "What are they?" "As well as I can see, sir, material to forge steel chains on those rascals who brought us here. They appear to be plans of United States ports and details of our harbor defenses. But we've no time to look them over now. Come, sir!" The lad stuffed the papers in his blouse. He had noticed with his keen eyes that few things escaped, that the Pulsifers had not locked the front door when they entered their hut. He now flung it open, and, a second later, he and the inventor stood under the open starlight, their hearts leaping excitedly. In front of the door, a dark shadow in the gloom that had set in following the sinking of the moon, was the automobile. A little gasoline, and more than a little good luck, was all that lay between them and safety. "Crank her up, sir. I'll stand guard here," breathed Ned. The inventor bent over the front of the machine and jerked the cranking handle over. There was no explosion. Again he turned it, without result. "We'll have to hurry, sir, or else run for it," warned Ned. "Hark!" Inside the house they could hear trampling of feet. Evidently Pulsifer and his brother had decided that their "bluff" would have burned itself out by this time, and were returning to the room in which they confidently supposed their helpless victims were lying in agony of mind.