This he directed on the center of the rope that stretched between
his feet.
Slowly but surely it began to darken. The tiny threads of which it was
composed twisted and shriveled and broke. Bert hunched up his knees,
and sat as though rapt in brooding contemplation, while all the time that
tiny shaft bored deeper and deeper into the rope like a red hot iron.
For half an hour this continued until Bert was convinced that the rope
was burned to the core, and that under a vigorous effort it would snap
like thread.
He moved around uneasily, fidgeting and twisting with an occasional groan
until "Red" unbent sufficiently from his surly indifference to ask him
"what was eatin' of him."
"I'm in a fearfully cramped position," explained Bert, meekly. "Do you
mind if I stand up for a minute and stretch?"
"Red" cogitated a moment.
"No law agin it, I reckon," he conceded ungraciously.
Bert labored painfully and clumsily to his feet, yawned wearily and
stretched his arms above his head. Then with one quick jerk he burst the
rope and went into "Red" like a thunderbolt.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242