d he pull his coat down through the
bands of rope. He worked at it for a long time, and finally stopped
his efforts, baffled, despairing, his heart filled with angry
hopelessness. Again the breeze fluttered the lapel, and with a sudden
impulse of revengeful savagery he thrust down his head and snapped at
the coat. Unexpectedly, he caught it in his teeth. Filled with a new
inspiration, he kept fast hold of the cloth and by working it along
between his lips, he finally got the head of the pin between his
teeth. Then he easily drew it out, and, leaning his head over,
transferred it to his fingers.

He drew a deep breath of exultation. "Now," he thought, "this settles
the matter, and I'll soon be free--if I don't drop the pin. My blessed
Marguerite! I could almost marry you for this!"

Carefully he began picking the rope with the pin, fiber by fiber, and
slowly, strand by strand, the hard, twisted, weather-beaten cords gave
way and stood out on each side in stubby, frazzled ends. The pin bent
and turned in his fingers, and the blood oozed from their raw ends.
But he held a tight grip upon his one hope of freedom, and finally the
rope was so nearly separated that a sudden wrench of his body broke
the last strands. He put the bent, twisted, bloody pin carefully away
in his pocket and, stooping over, found that he could barely reach the
match on the ground. He was able to grasp also two or three dry twigs
and sticks that lay near it. On the bark of the pine tree to which he
was tied were many little balls and drops of pitch. He felt over the
surface of the tree as far as he could reach and pulled off all that
he could get of this. Then he found that the only part of the rope
that he could at once reach and see was that directly in front of his
body. He turned and twisted, but there was no other way. If he
attempted to burn it anywhere else he would have to guess at the best
way to hold the match, and he might waste the precious heat in which
lay his only hope.

He stuck the pitch in a ring around the rope where it circled his body
just below the stomach. Then he set his teeth together, and with his
face gone all white and sick-looking, lighted the match and held it
under the pitch. Eagerly he watched the little flames dart upward over
the rope. He flattened his body against the tree as the scorching heat
reached his skin. The match burned low, and by its dying flame he
lighted one of the dry twigs. It was full of pitch and