“We can’t stay in here,” he asserted presently. “This part of the airship is not connected with the oxygen tanks, and we must have air to live.”
He again opened the hatch and looked out. Epworth crowded up to him. Overhead was space, all around them was space, and they were traveling at a speed that took their breath. When they searched for a view of the earth it was not to be seen, as the body of the airship obscured it.
“We will try to get out and get into the other part of the ship,” Epworth suggested.
“And Toplinsky will land on me for letting you and your companion come aboard.”
Michael closed the hatch part way.
“Besides,” he added, “how will you pass that first hatch opening. If you will look but again you will see Toplinsky standing with his head out and an air helmet over his head. For some reason he is on the look out.”
This time he let the hatch down softly and closed it firmly.
“We will fix you up with Toplinsky,” Epworth proposed. “We will tie you up, then go below and inform Toplinsky that we made you a prisoner.”
“Sounds fine, but it won’t work. Toplinsky will give me a beating for getting where you could put your hands on me.”
The three men put their heads together. It was now getting terribly cold, and for the first time they discovered that breathing was painful.