For a moment I didn't quite catch the significance; then I faltered with sudden weakness:
“Hawkins, you said that this plate corresponded to the cylinder-head of an engine? Then the tube beneath us is full of steam?”
“Yes, yes!”
“And if we get too much steam—as we seem to be getting it—will the plate blow off?”
“Yes—no—yes—no, of course not,” answered Hawkins faintly. “It's bolted down with——”
“But if it should,” I said, dashing the streaming perspiration from my eyes for another look at the accursed plate.
“If it should,” the inventor admitted, “we'd either go up to Heaven on it, or we'd stay here and drop!”
“Help!” I screamed.
“Look out! Look out! Hug the wall!” Hawkins shrieked.
A mighty spasm shook the Hydro-Vapor Lift. I fell flat and rolled instinctively to one side. Then, ere my bewildered senses could grasp what was occurring, my ears were split by a terrific roar.