hawser. They dared not cut it at their end, for a watch was sure to be
maintained upon it by their Russian captors; but at this end, ah! at his
end--

Bub did not stop to reason further. Wriggling close to the hawser, he
opened his jack-knife and went to work. The blade was not very sharp,
and he sawed away, rope-yarn by rope-yarn, the awful picture of the
solitary Siberian exile he must endure growing clearer and more terrible
at every stroke. Such a fate was bad enough to undergo with one's
comrades, but to face it alone seemed frightful. And besides, the very
act he was performing was sure to bring greater punishment upon him.

In the midst of such somber thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching. He
wriggled away into the shadow. An officer stopped where he had been
working, half-stooped to examine the hawser, then changed his mind and
straightened up. For a few minutes he stood there, gazing at the lights
of the captured schooner, and then went forward again.

Now was the time! Bub crept back and went on sawing. Now two parts were
severed. Now three. But one remained. The tension upon this was so great
that it readily yielded. Splash the freed end went overboard. He lay
quietly, his heart in his mouth, listening. No one on the cruiser but
himself had heard.

He saw the red and green lights of the _Mary Thomas_ grow dimmer and
dimmer. Then a faint hallo came over the water from the Russian prize
crew. Still nobody heard. The smoke continued to pour out of the
cruiser's funnels, and her propellers throbbed as mightily as ever.

What was happening on the _Mary Thomas_? Bub could only surmise; but of