Their signals had been constantly
answered with the plaintive, "Bob, Bob White." "This door's locked on
the other side," declared Harry, after trying the latch. "I'll bet it's
got a bar across."
"Then the only thing to do is to batter down the partitions," declared
Arnold. "Is it lath and plaster, or just boards?"
"They don't need to use plaster in this warm country."
"Well, then," Arnold continued, "We'll have to knock a hole in the
boards. What can we get for a battering ram?"
"Here's this bench. It's heavy and solid. Let's try it."
Not many blows of the bench swung in the strong arms were required to
batter loose enough of the partition to permit the boys to crawl through
into the next compartment. There they found a boy of about their own
age. He was dressed in a khaki uniform and medals and badges on his
jacket proclaimed him a Boy Scout. Prominently displayed were merit
badges proclaiming that he had attained proficiency and qualified for
the honors of Signaling, Seamanship, Camping and Stalking.
"Hello, here. What's this?" cried Harry, who was first through the
opening. "Why, this poor Bob White is tied hard and fast."
"Sure enough," was Arnold's comment. He followed fast on Harry's heels
and was at the prostrate boy in a moment. It was a short task to free
the lad of his uncomfortable fetters and help him to his feet. "Sure
enough," repeated Arnold. "Poor Bob White."
Their ready sympathy proved almost too much for the stranger.
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