What should she do? Would no one hear her? The water was up to her
neck now. She held her head as high as she could and screamed
again.
What was that? Silence? Or was someone outside?
. . . . . . . .
Coolly, in spite of the emergency, Kennedy took in the perilous
situation.
The lower end of the boiler, which was on a slant on the rapidly
shelving beach, was now completely under water and impossible to
get at. Besides, the opening was small, too small.
We pulled away the stone, but that did no good. No one could hope
to get in and then out again that way alive--much less with a
helpless girl. Yet something must be done. The tank was
practically submerged inside, as I estimated quickly. Blows had no
effect on the huge iron trap which had been built to resist many
pounds of pressure.
Kennedy gazed about frantically and his eye caught the sign on the
factory:
OXYACETYLENE WELDING CO.
"Come, Walter," he cried, running up the shore.
A moment later, breathless, we reached the doorway. It was, of
course, locked. Kennedy whipped out his revolver and several well-
directed shots through the keyhole smashed the lock. We put our
shoulders to it and swung the door open, entering the factory.
There was not a soul about, not even a watchman. Hastily we took
in the place, a forge and a number of odds and ends of metal
sheets, rods, pipes and angles.
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