Rob merely knocked out a shackle pin and let the whole thing go. This done, he scrambled back and descended to the engine room.
"If I can't make this old tea-kettle go, I'm a gone coon," he admitted to himself with grim humor, as he switched on gasoline and spark, and turned the fly wheel over. Outside the shouts were coming closer every instant, and the motor showed no signs of intending to start.
. . . . . .
It was Donald, the Wolf Scout, who saved the day for the prisoners of the submarine.
As Barton rolled about whimpering and cursing by turns, he spied a bright object protruding from the man's pocket.
"Is—is that the lever?" he asked, in tones that trembled with excitement.
Mr. Barr darted on the object and pulled it out with a shout of triumph.
"Once more the Boy Scouts have saved the day!" he cried. "It is the lever, sure enough!"
Close as the atmosphere of the cabin had by this time become, they all found breath enough to give three ringing cheers. In the conning tower Merritt, at the wheel, heard them, and guessed what they meant.
Fifteen minutes later the submarine was shooting upward to the surface toward the blessed air. With what speed the hatch was opened when they reached the surface and could inhale the pure ozone once more, may be imagined. As soon as they had somewhat recovered a red light was shown from the stern, and presently the Viper came chugging up.