“I--I--I can't--can't hang on long here!”
“Well, climb out and tell them to lower the crane!” screamed Hawkins.
I looked around. Right and left, before and behind, rose a mountain of loose coal. I essayed to climb nimbly toward the door which the Crano-Scale had used, and suddenly landed on my hands and knees.
“Are--you--out?” shrieked Hawkins. “I can't stick here!”
There was a dull, rattling whack beside me; bits of coal flew in all directions. Hawkins had landed.
“Well!” he exclaimed, sitting up. “I honestly believe, Griggs, that no man was ever born on this earth with less resourcefulness than yourself!”
“Which means that I should have climbed out and informed the people of your plight?”
The inventor arose and started for the door with a very convincing and elaborate display of indomitable energy. He planted his left foot firmly on the side of the coal pile--and found that his left leg had disappeared in the coal in a highly astonishing and undignified fashion.
“Humph!” he remarked disgustedly, struggling free and shaking something like a pound of coal dust from his person. “Perhaps--perhaps it's more solid on the other side.”
“Well, it is better to try it and fail than to stand there like a cigar-store Indian and offer fool suggestions!” snapped the inventor, making a vicious attack at the opposite side of the pile.
It really did seem more substantial. Hawkins, by the aid of both hands, both feet, his elbows, his knees, and possibly his teeth as well, managed to scramble upward for a dozen feet or so.
But just as he was about to turn and gloat over his success, the treacherous coal gave way once more. Hawkins went flat upon his face and slid back to me, feet first.
When he arose he presented a remarkable appearance.
Light overcoat, pearl trousers, fancy vest--all were black as ink. Hawkins' classic countenance had fared no better. His lips showed some slight resemblance of redness, and his eyes glared wonderfully white; but the rest of his face might have been made up for a minstrel show.
“Yes, it's devilish funny, isn't it?” he roared, sitting down again rather suddenly as the coal slid again beneath his feet.
“Funny isn't the word. What's our next move to be?”
“Climb out, of course. There must be some place where we can get a foothold.”