Good
God! was I to be burned like a rat in a trap? All was quiet save the
crackling of the flames as they licked up the depot. Something must be
done and quickly at that, or there would be one operator who would
receive his conge in a manner that was anything but pleasant.
Feverishly, I groped around, and all at once my hand came in contact
with the Winchester rifle. I grasped it by the barrel, and using it as a
battering ram I started to smash that door. The smoke by this time was
stifling, suffocating, and already my senses were leaving
me,--everything was swimming around before my eyes, but it was a case of
life and death, and I hammered away with all my might. Finally, Crash!
Ah! I had succeeded, the lock broke and in a moment I had pulled myself
up in the office.
The side towards the door was all ablaze and escape that way was
impossible, so I picked up a chair and slammed it through the window
over the table, and climbed out taking a loose set of instruments with
me. The wires were still working, and above the crackle of the flames I
heard "DS" still calling me.
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