A stool seemed to be placed near to the door. The slightest creaking in the
world told that the transom had been pushed ajar.

"Hand up the hose," whispered a cautious voice.

"Here you are."

There was a fumbling sound at the transom. Then came the impatient words:

"It don't work."

"Turn on the screw."

"I have. The water can't be on."

"Yes, it is. I turned it."

"I tell you it won't work," was whispered from the stool. "Go back to the
room and turn on the faucet, I tell you."

Hurried footsteps retreated from the door. Some one could be heard entering
the next room. Then some one rushed out of it again.

"Say," spoke an excited voice, "we're flooded! The hose has burst, and we
are deluged, and----"

"Boys, a light--the monitor's coming," interrupted a warning voice.

"Cut for it! Something's wrong! We're caught!"