Roy struck a match, of which he had a plentiful supply in his pockets.  As the yellow flame sputtered up in the semi-gloom it showed every corner of the small hut.  But it did not reveal anything that promised a chance to gain their liberty.

All at once, just as the light was sputtering out, Peggy gave a cry.  Her eye had been caught by a glistening metal object in one corner of the hut.

“What is it?” asked Roy.

“A gun—­a shot-gun standing in that corner over there.”

“Huh!” sniffed Jimsy, “a lot of good that does us.”

“On the contrary,” declared Peggy stoutly, “if it’s loaded it may serve to get us free.”

“I’m from Missouri,” declared Jimsy enigmatically.

“What’s your idea, sis?” asked Roy, who knew that Peggy’s ideas were usually worth following up.

“I remember reading only a short time ago of a man trapped much as we are who escaped by blowing off the lock of his prison with a gun he carried,” replied Peggy; “maybe it would work in our case.”

“Maybe it would if—­” rejoined Roy.

“If what?”

“If the gun was loaded, which is most unlikely.”

“Well, try it and see,” urged Peggy.

“Yes, do,” echoed Jimsy; “Peggy’s plan sounds like a good idea.  Maybe some hunter left it here and the shells are still in it.”

“No harm in finding out anyway,” declared Roy.

He struck another match and picked up the gun.  It was an antique looking weapon badly-rusted.  But on opening the breech he uttered a cry of joy.

“Good luck!” he exclaimed, “two shells,—­one in each barrel.”

“Well, put it to the test,” urged Jimsy.

“All right.  If this fails, though, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“Don’t worry about that now.  Try it.”

“I’m going to.  Don’t get peevish.”

Roy crossed the room to the door.  Raising the gun to his shoulder he placed the muzzle about opposite to where he thought the padlock must be located.

“Look out for a big noise, sis,” he warned.

Peggy gave a little scream and raised her hands to her ears.  She disliked firearms.

“Ready?” sang out Jimsy.

“All ready,” came the reply.

“Then fire!”

Simultaneously with Jimsy’s order came a deafening report.  In that confined space it sounded as if a huge cannon had been fired.  Roy staggered back under the “kick” of the heavy charge.

“Once more,” he announced.

Again a sonorous report sounded, but this time a section of the door was blown right out of the framework.  The daylight streamed in through it.

“Now then for the test,” cried Roy.  “Come on, Jimsy.”

The two boys placed their shoulders to the door.  With a suddenness that was startling, it burst open, and they faced freedom.  The lock had been fairly driven from its hold by the twice repeated charge of shot.