The big plate of iron never moved. He might as well have tried to pull down the side of the tunnel. The door was rusty on the hinges, and, even had it swung freely the very weight of it was too much for a boy.
“I guess I’ll have to give up!” thought Larry.
He moved back a bit, rubbing his hands where the edges of the iron had cut them slightly. As he did so his foot hit against something and he nearly stumbled to the floor. He saved himself by putting out his hand, which came in contact with something cold.
By the touch of it Larry knew it was a crowbar. He grasped it with both hands and pulled it from the crack in the wall where some workman had left it.
“Maybe I can pry the door open with this,” he said. “Luck seems to be coming my way after all.”
The bar was heavy, but Larry strained at it until he had inserted the wedge-like edge in the crack between the door and the side of the air lock.
“Here goes!” he exclaimed.
He pressed on the bar with all his strength. It did not budge.
“I guess it’s tighter than I thought,” gasped the boy.
Once again he pushed until his arms trembled with the strain. Again and again, throwing himself forward, he forced the bar away from him.