At the foot of the mountain beyond the abandoned mine building, they could see the plane sitting like a toy in the snow. The three enemy agents were bustling around it, mere specks at this distance.
“They’re still working on the runway,” Sandy observed.
“What do we do when they come back?” Jerry asked.
Lou Mayer indicated the rifle the doctor was holding. “We have one gun. We can make a fight of it at least.”
Dr. Steele was not enthusiastic. “All three of them are armed. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” His voice was grim. “Some of us would be hurt—or killed.”
“Why couldn’t we rush down the hill when we see them start up?” Professor Crowell suggested. “They’d be inside, coming up through the shafts. By the time they got up here, we’d have quite a head start on them. If we get to that plane—”
Dr. Steele shook his head. “We’d never stand a chance without snowshoes, and they’re all down at the mine shed. They’d have a field day picking us off with their rifles while we flounder through those hip-deep drifts on the mountain.”
“Then we’ve got no choice,” Lou Mayer said gloomily. “We’ve got to make a stand here.”
“Wait a minute!” Sandy cried out, the bud of a wild inspiration forming in his mind. “Is there any chance that thing still works?” The others followed his gaze upward to the old cable car creaking and rocking to the right of the entrance.
The professor sighed. “I’m afraid not. These cable cars were operated by power machinery down at the depot.”