of hours, despondency reigned in the laboratory. But
it was soon to be deposed again by hope.

Despite all of Erickson's scientific training, it was Dave Miller
himself who grasped the down-to-earth idea that started them hoping
again. He was walking about the lab, jingling keys in his pocket, when
suddenly he stopped short. He jerked the ring of keys into his hand.

"Erickson!" he gasped. "We've been blind. Look at this!"

The scientist looked; but he remained puzzled.

"Well--?" he asked skeptically.

"There's our wire!" Dave Miller exclaimed. "You've got keys; I've got
keys. We've got coins, knives, wristwatches. Why can't we lay them all
end to end--"

Erickson's features looked as if he had been electrically shocked.

"You've hit it!" he cried. "If we've got enough!"

With one accord, they began emptying their pockets, tearing off
wristwatches, searching for pencils. The finds made a little heap in the
middle of the floor. Erickson let his long fingers claw through thinning
hair.

"God give us enough! We'll only need the one wire. The thing is plugged
in already and only the positive pole has to be connected to the globe.
Come on!"

Scooping up the assortment of metal articles, they rushed across the
room. With his pocket-knife, Dave Miller began breaking up the metal
wrist-watch straps, opening the links out so that they could be laid
end-to-end for the greatest possible length. They patiently broke the
watches to pieces, and of the junk they garnered made a ragged foot and
a half of "wire." Their coins stretched the line still further.

They had ten feet covered before the stuff was half used up. Their metal
pencils, taken apart, gave them a good two feet. Key chains helped
generously. With eighteen feet covered, their progress began to slow
down.

Perspiration poured down Miller's face. Desperately, he tore off his
lodge ring and cut it in two to pound it flat. From garters and
suspenders they won a few inches more. And then--they stopped--feet from
their goal.

Miller groaned. He tossed his pocket-knife in his hand.

"We can get a foot out of this," he estimated. "But that still leaves us
way short."

Abruptly, Erickson snapped his fingers.

"Shoes!" he gasped. "They're full of nails. Get to work with that knife,
Dave. We'll cut out every one of 'em!"

* * * * *

In ten minutes, the shoes were reduced to ragged piles of tattered
leather. Erickson's deft fi