"Might as well be comfortable while we wait," said he. "I only wish we
had a couple of chairs, down here. Oversight on our part that we didn't
have some steel ones put in, and a line of canned goods and a few quarts
of Scotch. The floor's a bit damp and cold to sit on, and I want a drink
damn bad!"
Flint swung about and faced him, pale and shaking, tortured with fear
and with longing for his dope.
"You--you don't think it _will_ be long, eh, do you?" he demanded. "Not
long before we're taken out?"
Waldron shrugged his shoulders and blew a long, thin arrow of smoke
athwart the brightly-lighted air.
"Search me!" he exclaimed. "To judge by what was happening when we made
our exit, the Plant must be a mess, by this time. We seem to have been
checked, even if not mated, Flint. I must admit they caught us by
surprise. Caught us napping, damn them, after all! They were stronger
than we thought, Flint, and cleverer, and better organized. And so--"
"Don't say 'we,' curse you!" snarled Flint. "Blame yourself, if you want
to, but leave me out! _I_ knew there was trouble due, I tell you.
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