"Yep! Four ton. Start
up that blamed machine!"
"What? What did he say?" cried the inventor.
"Something about starting the engine."
"That's what I thought. They're going to use the Crano-Scale, Griggs!
We're saved! We're saved!"
"I fail to see it."
"Why, when the thing comes down, be ready. Ah--it's coming now! Get
ready, Griggs! Get ready! Be prepared to make a dash for it!"
"And then?"
"And then climb in, of course. There won't be much room, for they're
going to take on four tons, and the thing will be full; but we can
manage it. We can do it, Griggs, and be home in time for dinner."
"And you're a fine looking object to go to dinner," I added.
Hawkins' countenance fell somewhat, but there was no time for a reply.
The coal-scuttle of the Crano-Scale was hovering above us, evidently
selecting a spot for its operations.
"Here! We're right under it!" Hawkins shouted. "This way, Griggs!
Quick! Lord! It's coming down--it'll hit you! Quick!"
And I dived toward Hawkins as he was struggling for a foothold, and
then----
* * * * *
A line of asterisks is the only way of putting into print my state of
mind--or absence of any state of mind--for the ensuing quarter of an
hour.
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