“Didn’t see anybody.”
“Took ’em by surprise, perhaps. But they’ll be along. We’ve got to work fast while we’ve a chance of getting out of here.” He glanced at the barred door. “We could blast out there with the carbon-gun, but I don’t know the road. Hop on my shoulders, kid. We’re going out through the ceiling.”
Phil handed his brother the gun and climbed deftly onto Tony’s shoulders as the latter knelt. Slowly he rose, steadying Phil with one hand.
“Got—got worried about you when you didn’t show up. I went after you.”
“See if you can open the panel . . . Jimmy all right?”
“He’s okay. The kid’s pretty tough . . . Got it!”
The hinged panel slid down as Phil’s stubby fingers closed over the edge of the opening. Tony heaved up strongly. For a second Phil hung there; then his body wriggled up, and his weight was gone from Tony’s shoulders.
Simultaneously a cry came from beyond the barred door.
A pale ray lanced out. Tony felt a twinge of agony in his side. Involuntarily he flung up the carbon-gun and fired. The metal door vanished in a blaze of white fires. Whoever had been beyond it had also disappeared without trace.
But there were others coming. Tony traded shots with them. He heard Phil’s voice and risked a glance up. Phil was lying flat, his arm extended down.