“For mercy’s sake, what struck us, Barney?” cried the young inventor. “What’s the matter?”
“Shure, sor—I—that is—it must have been an airthquake, sor!”
“More likely an avalanche,” declared Wade. “Heigho! how came we on the surface?”
“Golly, look at dat keyb’d!” ejaculated Pomp.
Frank gazed at Barney.
“What was the cause of this, sir?” he asked, sternly. “Why don’t you speak?”
Poor Barney!
Cold sweat stood out upon his brow. He knew that he had been guilty of a serious misdemeanor. A culpable act of negligence.
“Shure, sor—I—I—don’t know,” he stammered.
“You don’t know?” exclaimed Frank, severely. “Were you not on guard?”