uckless pair were locked within a small metal
room somewhere within its recesses. There sounded again the peculiar
rasping that told them its doors were being sealed. And then came the
roar of that mighty exhaust beating down.

There followed the lifting, rushing sensation they had experienced
before, and again they were flung violently to the flooring by the
force of the upward impulse.

When the pressure slacked, they staggered to their feet and groped
around the dark, stuffy little room.

"Well, this is the end, I guess," sighed Professor Prescott. "I had
never thought," with a grim attempt at humor, "that I would meet quite
such a scientific fate as this!"

"Nor had I!" Stoddard agreed. "But I'm not quite ready to cash in my
checks yet. The game isn't over!" He was pacing around the room,
knocking on the metal walls with something that gave back a strident
ring. "Have you any idea what composition this stuff is?"

* * * * *

The professor rapped on one of the panels; felt of it.

"Aluminum, I would say."

"Nothing so lucky! If it were, I could cut it like cheese. But
duralumin, probably, a very light, strong alloy; and what I have here
is a hunting knife with a can-opener on one end! If I'm not mistaken,
we'll be out of this sardine box before long."

Whereupon he applied himself to the thin metal wall of their cell,
working determinedly, while Professor Prescott held his cigarette
lighter for a torch.

"You see, duralumin yields to heat, like aluminum," he exclaimed, as
finally his knife thrust through. "Now then, let's get the can opener
working."

The progress was slow but sure. Within an hour, he had cut out a
jagged section some two feet square, through which they squeezed into
an equally dark corridor.

"Now then!" Stoddard's mood was exultant. "There must be switches
around here somewhere. There were lights, I remember, so let's find
them. Once we get a little light on the subject--"

"Here!" called the professor, who had groped down the corridor with
the cigarette lighter. "How's that?"

As he pressed a switch, a row of small bulbs glowed overhead.

"Fine!" was the answer. "Now let's see if we can find the engine-room,
or whatever they call it."

* * * * *

Jubilant now, they continued on down the corridor, which ended in a
flight of stairs.

"I fancy it must be below," said Professor Prescott. "From what I have
seen of ex