“Now!” he breathed. He gave the lever an experimental tug. The cap held firm.
“Try it!” he fairly shouted into his mike.
Ten seconds later, the hose hanging loosely before his window, twisted and writhed like a snake. It was filling with air. He watched the spot where it joined the pipe on the sub. Should bubbles appear, all his work was lost. Ten seconds, he watched. No bubbles. Twenty—thirty—forty seconds. Still no bubbles.
“Hooray!” he shouted hoarsely. “Hooray! We win!”
And from the sunken sub came an answer:
“It is good! We are getting air!”
After having his steel ball moved to a safe distance, Dave settled down to watch. Had they won? Would the sub really rise?
Fifteen long, tense, minutes passed. Then, like a giant fish which had been asleep on the bottom, the dark bulk before him began to stir.
“Thank God!” Dave exclaimed, fervently.
A moment more and the sub rose slowly toward the surface. And, like a cattleboy driving the cows home at eventide, Dave followed in his steel ball.