He jerked at the door nervously. It slid open, and he darted in instantly. As his companions came down the ladder he caught each frantically and pulled him inside, closing the door.
With one motion the three opened their mouths, and gulped down the living, warm air. They were all but gone, and it required several seconds for them to recover.
They were treading softly down the narrow companionway when a door opened and Toplinsky came out of Joan’s room.
“By this time,” he was saying, “that young brother of yours is dead, and I am going to change your place of abode.”
He extended his hand to pull the girl out of the room.
“I’m not going. I’m going to stay here, and get that panel open so my brother can get air.”
She jerked back, and the giant put forth some force to move her.
Epworth bounded forward with fierce anger, and before the giant could turn brought the butt of his gun down on the giant’s head.
“Get inside, and lock the door,” he urged. “Make it snappy—before some one else drifts along.”
“Not by myself,” Joan protested quickly, sensing that in some miraculous manner Epworth and his friend had escaped death in the storeroom. “You and Billy must come in also.”