“Sure thing. Are you battered much?” Bob asked.
“Some, but not enough to put me out,” Jim told him.
“How is Dad?”
“Doing fine. Guess when we opened our roof it drove fresh air through that communication tube and that kept him from smothering. Soon as I got this lid open, he came to.”
“Oh gosh, I’m glad. Has he told you what happened?”
“He doesn’t know. He said that he went to sleep and was dreaming of being choked, and he roused a bit. The air was stinging and his head got full of pains. He tried to signal to us but became unconscious before he could reach the set,” Austin explained tensely.
“Do you suppose that kid hid himself back there?”
“Yes. Folded himself in among the luggage. None of us thought to look about either cabin, and when we were up, and Dad asleep, the dwarf let out enough of the stuff he carried to make Dad dopey. Then he crawled out, smashed the tube and closed the place tight. We had that hole in front open, so it drove some air in; churned it around and we got the stench. That wasn’t a kid, it was a man, and whoop, Boy, he did fling a wicked arm. Could you see what happened to him?”
“He didn’t have a chute on and while I was trying to get under you, he fell on through the fog,” Bob answered.
“Perhaps some fishing boat or vessel will pick him up. Dad says that we must report what happened when we get to Belize.”