A rubberoid sealing patch was taken out of its case and applied over the hole. They flattened it out tightly to assist the adhesive to cling fast in place. Then all four of them went over to the wall to watch the pressure gauge.
A minute passed, and the needle failed to move even the tiniest bit. If this did not work, they knew they would surely be lost, because from where they stood, they could see outside for quite a distance, and still no one was coming.
Over his radio, Ted heard the nervous intake of breath from the others. He knew his hurried breathing must sound the same to them. Actually, fear was hastening their doom because the more scared they were the more oxygen they used up.
Ted stole a look at his helmet gauge. Only three minutes of air remained! His eyes turned to the wall gauge again. He wished he could put out his hand and push it along toward normal. How desperately he wished for it to move!
Ted thought he noticed a flicker of the needle. He blinked his eyes. Yes, it had moved! The others had seen it too.
“It moved!” cried Jill, almost hysterically.
“It certainly did!” her mother burst out. “I saw it!”
The needle continued to climb toward normal. Ted had nothing to say. He was so filled with relief that he was speechless for the moment.
They were all so concerned over the snaillike movement of that all-important needle that they paid no attention to the last few dwindling draughts of air in their suits. Ted was the first to realize that his tank was empty. He began feeling that same lightheadedness he had experienced in his room.
“Our suits,” he cried out. “Pull them off! The room is just about normal!”