“Listen, Billy!”
“Did you think you heard something then, Frank?”
“There’s someone at the door yonder; I saw it move, but the bar kept it from giving way,” Frank went on in a low tone. “Don’t act as though you suspected anything out of the way. They may be watching us through some peep-holes that have been bored in the walls. It would be foolish for us to give our plan away.”
“I understand what you are aiming at, Frank,” remarked the other, trying hard to appear perfectly natural, immediately adding under his breath: “There, I saw the door quiver again. They must wonder why it refuses to give way. That bar is our salvation, because like as not there’s a number of them out there who would flock in with all sorts of weapons, meaning to keep us quiet while their aviators examine the machine and get ready for a launching. Whee! then good-by to our bully Sea Eagle forever.”
“That’ll never happen as long as we can lift a hand to prevent it,” said Frank.
“Say, you don’t think that could be Pudge trying the door?” suggested Billy, as though struck by a sudden bright idea.
“Not very likely,” came the reply; “but we can easily tell. If he hears me give our old signal, Pudge will answer on the dot. Listen and see if anything comes of it.”
The whistle Frank emitted was of a peculiar character. It was immediately imitated from without, and so exactly that one might think it an echo. Frank shook his head on hearing this.
“Pudge isn’t there,” he said decisively. “If he was, as you very well know, Billy, he would have sent back the other call, entirely different from the one I gave.”
“Then some fellow answered for Pudge, thinking we might open up, when they could rush the place and get possession—is that the way it stands, Frank?”