Is that it?"
Reblong said this was practically true, and led the way back to the
engine-room. The place was full of a gurgling sound, now, due to the
fuel being run into the tanks. Reblong glanced at the indicating
tube. "We've already got enough," he estimated, "to take the ship a
thousand miles."
And next instant Fort had leaped upon him. Reblong staggered back in
his surprise, stumbled against a chair, and sat down heavily,
helpless as a child in the athlete's iron grip.
"Sorry, old man," remarked Fort, meanwhile pushing him, chair and
all, toward the instrument-table. "But it's simply got to be done."
Like a flash he let go the engineer and snatched a strap from the
table--where he had of course previously placed it--and again threw
himself upon his man before Reblong recovered from his surprise. In
a second he was strapped tight in his chair; and not until then did
he think to use his feet. Another strap put an end to his kicking.
"Surprised you, didn't I?" The athlete was enjoying himself hugely.
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