But a few minutes were required for the boy with his strong, white teeth to so loosen the knot hastily tied by Lopez as to render possible the free movement of Harry’s arms.  After swinging his hands vigorously a few moments to restore circulation, Harry then performed a similar office for his chum, but not, however, with his teeth.  The experience was almost too much for Arnold, who for a time threatened to be ill from the suggestion of biting the thongs.

When both were freed they next gave their attention to the lad on the opposite side of the partition.  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.

“Won’t you come over and visit us?” was their invitation.

“Thanks, I’ll be glad to do so,” was the reply.

“I was just a bit lonesome in there, to tell the truth.  I’m better now.”

“What shall we call you other than Bob White?” asked Harry.

“My name is Charley Burnett,” answered their new friend.  “I belong to the Bob White patrol of Boy Scouts in St. Louis.”

“And you came down the Mississippi in a launch called the ‘Spray,’ and were set upon by a gang of thugs and pirates!” cried Arnold.  “How am I for a mind reader or clairvoyant?”

“You’re just fine,” declared Charley following the lads into the front room.  “I wish I were half as good.  I certainly do.”

“What would you do if you were?” inquired Harry.

“I’d go into a trance and see if I could locate my chum.”