"Oh, look and see what they're howling about now," growled Hawkins.
The cause of their vociferations was only too apparent.
Ping! Ping! Ping! One by one, sawed in two by the machine, the telegraph
wires were snapping!
"Stop it! Stop it, Hawkins!" I cried. "You're smashing the wires!"
"Well, suppose I am? That'll let us out, won't it?"
"See here," I said, sternly, "if an all wise Providence should happen to
spare us from being dragged down and dashed to pieces, consider the bill
for repairs which you'll have to foot. You stop that engine, Hawkins, or
I'll do it myself."
"Well----" said the inventor, doubtfully. "There! Now be satisfied. I've
stopped it, and we'll wait and be taken down the ladder like a couple of
confounded Italian women in a tenement house fire."
Hawkins sat back with a sullen scowl. I drew a long breath of relief, and
began to scan the landscape for signs of the hook and ladder company.
They were a long time in coming. Meanwhile, we were hanging in space, a
frisky balloon overhead, and below, Hawkins' engine having considerately
left a little of the telegraph company's property uninjured, six telegraph
wires and a gaping crowd.
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