The chief turned toward Tom and his chums.
Tom had a plan. It was based on something that he knew and which Henry and Mort had failed to recall if they, also, knew of it.
When the crystals of carbide are first exposed to water, it takes a fair space of time for the gas to be liberated in a quantity sufficient to generate pressure enough to force it through the burner tip.
That amount of time had elapsed, but in their haste Henry and Mort had either failed to open the setting screw or had not tightened the base enough to hold the pressure. Tom proposed to take advantage of this guess and to turn the older men’s magic to his own account.
“Tell the chief,” he said to Margery, “the magic of the great doctors has not answered their call. Then ask them if they give up to us.”
Margery spoke and gestured; then she turned to Henry.
Morosely Henry and Mort nodded.
“What else can we do?” Mort grunted. “Seems like we can’t work it, seems like!”
“Tell the chief this,” Tom went on. “We do not work evil magic.”
“Listen!” cried Henry, suddenly, with a malicious leer toward Tom. “First you tell the chief that our magic failed because them—them evil ones work against us!”