that rope. We want to be certain ifs strong enough to bear their weight, that's all."
"I'll help you at the job," Tom told him, for he too wished to be positive about the twisted parts of the sheets, before trusting the girl and her mother to their care.
Fortunately they found that Carl Potzfeldt had some of the airs of a millionaire about him. The sheets were of stout linen, instead of the customary cotton to which the American boys were accustomed. When these were cut first with a sharp pocket-knife, and then torn into long strips about a foot or so in width, they could be twisted and knotted until the result was a novel rope of at least twenty feet in length.
Neither Bessie nor her mother said a single word. They seemed more than willing to be thus lowered to the ground. Such a novel experience might not be delightful, but it amounted to very little when compared with what they had suffered at the hands of their rude and cruel captor.
Soon the odd rope was ready for use.
"Let me be the first to go down," Bessie then said to Tom, in an authoritative voice.
As he had been about to propose the same thing he made not the least objection, but proceeded to secure one end of the strange
