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Page 21
"And if they had done so we should have felt we were being moved."
"Undoubtedly; and consequently we must be in some vehicle, perhaps
some of those long prairie wagons, or some show-caravan--"
"Evidently! For if we were in a boat moored on the Schuyllkill we
should have noticed the movement due to the current--"
"That is so; and as we are still in the clearing, I think that now is
the time to get away, and we can return later to settle with this
Robur--"
"And make him pay for this attempt on the liberty of two citizens of
the United States."
"And he shall pay pretty dearly!"
"But who is this man? Where does he come from? Is he English, or
German, or French--"
"He is a scoundrel, that is enough!" said Uncle Prudent. "Now to
work." And then the two men, with their hands stretched out and their
fingers wide apart, began to feel round the walls to find a joint or
crack.
Nothing. Nothing; not even at the door. It was closely shut and it
was impossible to shoot back the lock. All that could be done was to
make a hole, and escape through the hole. It remained to be seen if
the knives could cut into the walls.
"But whence comes this never-ending rustling?" asked Evans, who was
much impressed at the continuous f-r-r-r.
"The wind, doubtless," said Uncle Prudent.
"The wind! But I thought the night was quite calm."
"So it was. But if it isn't the wind, what can it be?"
Phil Evans got out the best blade of his knife and set to work on the
wall near the door. Perhaps he might make a hole which would enable
him to open it from the outside should it be only bolted or should
the key have been left in the lock. He worked away for some minutes.
The only result was to nip up his knife, to snip off its point, and
transform what was left of the blade into a saw.
"Doesn't it cut?" asked Uncle Prudent.
"No."
"Is the wall made of sheet iron?"
"No; it gives no metallic sound when you hit it."
"Is it of ironwood?"
"No; it isn't iron and it isn't wood."
"What is it then?"
"Impossible to say. But, anyhow, steel doesn't touch it." Uncle
Prudent, in a sudden outburst of fury, began to rave and stamp on the
sonorous planks, while his hands sought to strangle an imaginary
Robur.
"Be calm, Prudent, be calm! You have a try."
Uncle Prudent had a try, but the bowie-knife could do nothing against
a wall which its best blades could not even scratch. The wall seemed
to be made of crystal.
So it became evident that all flight was impracticable except through
the door, and for a time they must resign themselves to their fate--
not a very pleasant thing for the Yankee temperament, and very much
to the disgust of these eminently practical men. But this conclusion
was not arrived at without many objurgations and loud-sounding
phrases hurled at this Robur--who, from what had been seen of him at
the Weldon Institute, was not the sort of man to trouble himself much
about them.
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