Dave had reached out in the darkness and gripped Freddy's arm.
"Just keep talking," he whispered. "Talk about anything. Tell me a story. Anything, but just keep talking. A half baked idea is beginning to buzz in the old dome. I'm going to prowl around a bit, and...."
"Dave, you madman!" Freddy hissed. "You can't get outside. You're no match for that big devil. He'll...!"
"Keep your shirt on!" Dave choked him off. "I'm not going outside. I'm going to prowl around inside, and try to find something. You just keep talking, pal. Ox Face can hear through that door, so I want your voice to cover up any sounds I make. Okay. Start talking!"
Dave gave Freddy a reassuring pat on the knee and glided away in the darkness. He heard the English youth start telling about an experience he had when he was learning to fly, and then Freddy's voice became no more than a constant murmur in Dave's ears. He was down on all fours and creeping around on the dirt floor and concentrating every bit of his attention on his task. Seconds ticked by to form a minute. Then two minutes, three, four, and on up to ten.
By then Dave had explored every square inch of the dirt floor with his hands, one side wall, and the rear wall. A cloud of bitter defeat was crowding into his heart, and it was all he could do to stop from pulling a clip of matches from his pocket and striking one into light. There had to be something he could use in this deserted repair shed. There had to be something! An old rusty wrench, or a length of stout timber. Something he could use as a club. Even a rock would do the trick. But his hands touched nothing that wasn't nailed or bolted fast. The dirt floor was smooth as glass, and entirely unbroken by a corner of rock jutting up.
More agonizing minutes ticked by and hope began to fade in Dave's heart. Then, suddenly, when he had reached a point but a few feet from the workbench upon which Freddy sat, his groping hands touched something that electrified him with wild joy. The something was an eighteen inch length of lead pipe that stuck out from the side of the repair shop. He explored it with his fingers and hope leaped even higher. The length of pipe, which he guessed had served as a conduit for electric wires, was not screwed tight in the connecting joint set flush with the shop wall. After several twists with his hands he had the thing free. He hefted the pipe in one hand and grinned happily in the darkness.
"Lady Luck, give me just one whack!" he breathed softly. "Just one whack, that's all!"
With a nod for emphasis he got to his feet and moved over to Freddy. The English youth cut his monologue off short as Dave touched him on the arm.
"What is it, Dave?" he whispered. "Good grief! What's that? It feels like lead pipe."