Bart climbed up on the table and investigated.
“It’s a window,” he said, “but it’s not more than a foot square, and has bars to it. More for ventilation than anything else I guess. It’s just above the waterline, for I can hear the river and the noise of the propeller.”
“It must be a mistake,” said Frank. “Go ahead, Bart, and make a racket like a base drum. We’ve got to get out of here, dress and get ashore somehow.”
Thereupon Bart pounded with both fists on the door, while the boys aided him by yelling. They kept it up for several minutes but there was no response.
“Maybe the machinery makes so much noise they can’t hear us,” remarked Ned. “Let’s all pound together. Use the chair and save our fists.”
They raised a thundering din by knocking the chairs against the walls of the room and the door.
“Surely someone must hear that,” said Bart, as he stopped to rest his arm. Evidently someone did, for in the silence that followed a voice asked:
“What do you want?”
“We want to get out,” called Bart. “We’re locked in.”