The progress was slow but sure. Within an hour, he had cut out a jagged section some two feet square, through which they squeezed into an equally dark corridor.
"Now then!" Stoddard's mood was exultant. "There must be switches around here somewhere. There were lights, I remember, so let's find them. Once we get a little light on the subject—"
"Here!" called the professor, who had groped down the corridor with the cigarette lighter. "How's that?"
As he pressed a switch, a row of small bulbs glowed overhead.
"Fine!" was the answer. "Now let's see if we can find the engine-room, or whatever they call it."
ubilant now, they continued on down the corridor, which ended in a flight of stairs.
"I fancy it must be below," said Professor Prescott. "From what I have seen of experimental models, the propulsion impulse must originate from the base."
So they descended the stairs, entered another dark corridor, found another switch and pressed it, and thus they proceeded, lighting the interior of the rocket as they went. And as they descended, the roar of the exhaust increased in volume, indicating that they were nearing its source.