Ralph was silent. Just then there was a stamping up the stairs. Mason came blustering in.
“No lights ahead. I guess the stores are all shut up,” he began, and intercepted himself with a stare at Ralph and a vivid:
“Hello!”
“Don’t move!” ordered the telegraph operator in an irascible tone of voice. “We’re in it deep, it seems. Hand over that bunch of rope near the stove, Mason.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Cut for it. I know this fellow, and he isn’t here for nothing. Our game’s blown, or it will be. You needn’t squirm,” he directed at Ralph. “There’s two of us now.”
Ralph’s hands were tied in front of him and his feet secured, as well. It was only half-heartedly, however, that Mason assisted. He was pale and scared.
“Throw him across those blamed instruments, so they will keep quiet,” ordered Grizzly.
Ralph was roughly thrown upon the table, face downward, so that the relay was just under his waist. His weight against the armature stopped the clicking of the sounder. The two men grouped together in a corner, conversing rapidly and excitedly in undertones.
As luck would have it, Ralph’s left hand was in such a position that it just touched the key. He opened the key and pretended to be struggling quite a little.