off any rising nervousness, felt his heart pounding against his ribs as he followed his resolute guide up the slope. On the summit of the sandhill, Turner paused again to reconnoiter, his pistol ready for action. Then he pushed on to the door. He tried to open it but it refused to budge. His first impulse was to yell for Buffum. His next to go for the fishermen. He dismissed both thoughts. He no longer hesitated what he should do.
"Here, the axe," he whispered to Jimmy, as he thrust his pistol into its holster. "Stand away while I smash the door in and stay there till I call you."
Under a few pounding blows, the door yielded and crashed open.
"Be careful," he whispered once more in Jimmy's ear as he made ready to enter. "Stay where you are till I whistle, you understand; then come in."
Leaping ahead, Turner dropped his axe within the doorway and flashed his light, his right hand holding the pistol with perfect steadiness. A glance assured him that the brick paved, circular room, bare as a vault, was free of lurkers.
