He managed to get one hand comparatively free, so that he could
move it about, but then he struck several hard knots, and could
make no further progress. The conference seemed on the point of
breaking up.
"One of you go for a big kettle to boil the tar in," ordered
the leader, "and the rest of you dig up some feathers."
"I must get loose!" thought Tom desperately. "If they try to
tar and feather me it will be a risky business. I've got to get
loose! They may burn me severely!"
But, though he tried with all his strength, the ropes would not
loosen another bit. He had one hand free, and that was all. The
crowd was moving back toward him.
"My knife!" thought the captive quickly. "If I can reach that
in my pocket I can cut the ropes! Once I get loose I'll fight the
whole crowd!"
He managed to get his free hand into his pocket. His fingers
touched something. It was not his knife, and, for a moment he
felt a pang of disappointment. Then, as he realized what it was
that he had grasped, a new idea came to him.
"This will be better than the knife!" he thought exultantly.
The crowd of lads was now surrounding him, some distance from the
fire, which burned in front of the captive.
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