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<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> They managed to get the cylinder up on the scaffolding and to insert one end in the opening gouged in the outer shell. Slow but steady progress toward penetrating the gummy mass was achieved by imparting a rotary motion to the pipe section. By mid-morning, Marlin had rigged up a crude leverage device of timbers, on the principle of a pipe wrench, which expedited the process of screwing the cylinder into the interior. From time to time it was necessary to shovel out the accumulation of ooze. DuChane called Marlin's attention to a dead field mouse in one of the shovel loads. "No calves?" queried Marlin. "Not yet, but you can't tell." By nightfall they had made definite progress. The pipe was buried at least two feet in the sphere. Tired and not a little out of sorts, they returned to the cookshack. "Me, I'm through," growled McGruder. "I'm hittin' the trail first thing tomorrow—and what's more, sis, you're comin' with me," he stared at Sally. "That's what you think!" she responded disdainfully. But a plentiful breakfast, or perhaps curiosity, altered the detective's plans. When operations were resumed, he showed up tardily to take a hand. By mid-afternoon, they had succeeded in screwing the pipe some four and a half feet into the interior, when an obstacle was encountered. Marlin straightened his weary back. "Dig the stuff out," he instructed. "We've struck the shell—I hope." When the message was relayed to Eli that the shell had been reached, he came plunging through the tunnel. "Do nothing till I come!" he shouted from the ledge above. With utter disregard for safety, he hurtled down the slope and drew up panting on the platform. "We will cut through," he announced. "It needs a small man." He looked at Link appraisingly. "Can you handle a blowtorch?" When the slinky one was safely at work under Marlin's direction, Eli impatiently herded the others away. "You are doing no good here. Come—help with the things I must take." The group eyed him with astonishment. "Take where?" demanded DuChane. "You don't expect this contraption actually to fly?" "What I think is my own affair!" Thornboldt's beard trembled with the vehemence of his indignation. "Who are you to question my intentions—you who cannot even comprehend my scientific principles!" With raised eyebrows, DuChane glanced at Marlin. Then, accompanied by McGruder, he followed the scientist up the winding trail while Link continued his blowtorch operations. Whatever the inventor's intentions might be, Marlin felt an insatiable curiosity to view the interior of the incredible sphere. "Got her!" presently came the muffled announcement from the depths of the pipe. Link wriggled out, holding the blowtorch gingerly at arm's length. "Melted away like butter," was the little man's comment. "Now a safe I cut into oncet—" Marlin lost the rest by starting up the hill to lend Sally Camino a hand with a heavy chest she was carrying. "He's got us all working," she observed, as Marlin took the burden. "We've been packing stuff all morning." Absently she dislodged a pebble from between her bare toes. "What's he going to do, bury himself in that thing?" "You've got me." Marlin shrugged. By the time he had deposited the chest on the platform, McGruder and DuChane appeared, carrying a long packing case between them. Maw Barstow followed, also burdened, and after her Eli himself. Smiling serenely, but empty-handed, Pearl brought up the rear. "I must be the first inside," insisted Eli. "Bring the other boxes." They did not depart until the scientist, heaving and puffing, and by dint of wholehearted shoving on the part of those outside, had managed to squeeze his bulk through the pipe. They heard the sound of rending fabric, accompanied by agonized imprecations, as he worked his way over the jagged metal edges. Then followed a heavy "plop." "Are you hurt?" Marlin called. "Naturally I am hurt! I am killed!" came the dark response. "But no matter. Pass me those boxes." At Marlin's suggestion, Link first crawled through with the blowtorch and trimmed away the jagged metal. Then the boxes were pushed through and they returned for more. Marlin glanced curiously around Thornboldt's recent living quarters. The shack was nearly stripped. Books, apparatus, provisions, bedding—everything except the larger pieces of furniture—had been packed. "The old rascal is nuts, all right," was Marlin's comment to Sally. The others had departed with their loads. "Think we've got all he wants?" Before she could answer, a staccato volley of shots interrupted. The sounds appeared to come from the slope below. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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