Page:Weird Tales v15n01 1930-01.djvu/77

that they had managed to gain a hold half-way up its steep sides and were vainly and blindly striving to pour still farther upward.

It was not those glistening floods on the barren island below, however, that were central in the thoughts of Mallett and Ralton as they worked on at the bar, bloody and blind with sweat, all but exhausted; it was those other gigantic floods that both knew were even then sweeping over coasts and islands, engulfing the peoples of earth as they rolled on. Neither spoke of that; neither spoke at all as they labored on with all their waning force at the stubborn bar, but the thought was as though visible between them, spurring all their strength into their efforts. And at last, when the dawn-light was strengthening swiftly eastward, they had scratehed away the cement from one side of the bar's base, and straightened up, all but exhausted.

"It's all we can do!" panted Mallett. "Our only chance is to get the bar out now—if we wait longer it'll be broad day."

The two paused a moment, then gripped the bar, braced themselves against the concrete wall, and put all the strength of their muscles into a great pull inward. Ralton heard the muscles of himself and his friend cracking beneath the strain, and closing his eyes with the agony of that effort, felt the bar stir a little in their grip. But when they straightened, inspected it quickly, they found that hardly had they loosened it. Again they gripped it, again threw all their strength into a mighty pull, and this time felt it give perceptibly in its socket. Neither could speak, for the moment, and Ralton saw his friend breathing in great gasps, as he was also; but only for a moment they paused, then gripped the bar again. Another tremendous effort—a giving of the bar—and then, with a harsh, shrill squealing of the iron against the cement, it had come out completely from its socket.

For the moment the two leaned motionless against the wall, breathless and exhausted but listening with pounding hearts to ascertain whether that last shrill squeal of the bar had given the alarm to Munson and the others. The faint voices from the laboratory, they noted, had apparently ceased, but there was no sound of alarm, and no one appeared in the clearing or within sight of their prison-room. Then, after that moment's pause, Mallett had pulled himself upward, was squeezing through the window between bar and wall, and in a moment Ralton had followed him. Crouched on the ground beneath the window, the gray light of dawn growing over the cone's summit, Mallett pointed across the open clearing to where stood the mighty globe-condenser and its unprotected switch control.

"The control!" Mallett was whispering thickly. "If we can get to it———!"

They stepped forward, stealthily, silently. No sound came from any part of the cone's summit, save for the great condenser's half-heard hum. Another step—another. Slowly, carefully they crept on, out from the shelter of their prison and the long building beside it, into the great circular clearing. Ralton's blood was pounding through his veins, for now the gleaming condenser lay but a few hundred feet ahead, at the clearing's center. Should he make a rush for it and trust to chance to get him to the condenser's control in time? He discarded the idea, even as Mallett and he crept forward; for within moments more their stealthy, silent progress would bring them to their goal. Within moments more———

"Your strategy, Mallett, is somewhat infantile, I fear!"

Munson's voice! Cool and mocking, it cut like a sword through their whirling thoughts and the two spun about, then recoiled. Out from the open door of one of the buildings behind them had stepped the massive,