He led the way as on the night before, with his gun held ready. They traveled for half an hour through the awakening jungle. Then for long, long minutes Tommy searched for a sign of living men before he ventured forth to look at the wreckage of the Tube. He found no live men, and only two dead ones. But a glimpse of their bestial, vice-ridden faces was enough to remove any regret for their deaths.
The Tube was shattered. Its mouth was belled out and broken by the explosion of the grenades hung within it. A part of the metal was molten—from the thermit, past question. There was a veritable crater fifteen feet across where the Tube had come through, and there were only shattered shreds of metal where the first bend had been. Tommy regarded the wreckage grimly. A pair of oxidized copper wires, their insulation burnt off, stung his eyes as he traced them to where they vanished in torn-up earth. He took them in his bare hands. The tingling sting of a low-voltage current made his heart leap. Then he smiled grimly. He touched them to each other. Dot-dot-dot—dash-dash-dash—dot-dot-dot. S O S! If there was anybody in the laboratory, that would tell them.
His hands stung sharply. Someone was there, ringing the phone! Evelyn came toward him, her face resolutely cheerful.
“No hope, Tommy?” she asked. “I just saw the telephone, all battered up. I guess we’re pretty badly off.”
“Get it!” said Tommy feverishly. “For Heaven’s sake, get it! The phone wires weren’t broken. If we can make it work….”
The instrument was a wreck. It was crumpled and torn and apparently useless. The diaphragm of the receiver was punctured. The transmitter seemed to have been crushed. But Tommy worked desperately over them, and twisted the earth-wires into place.
“Hello, hello, hello!”
The voice that answered was Smithers’, strained and fearful:
“Mr. Reames! Thank Gawd! What’s happened? Is Miss Evelyn all right?”