"Come, now!" said he, with returning practicality. "Bath for you, breakfast for both of us--then we must buckle down to work. _Come!_" CHAPTER X TERROR Noon found them far advanced in the preliminaries of their hard adventuring. Working together in a strong and frank companionship--the past temporarily forgotten and the future still put far away--half a day's labor advanced them a long distance on the road to safety. Even these few hours sufficed to prove that, unless some strange, untoward accident befell, they stood a more than equal chance of winning out. Realizing to begin with, that a home on the forty-eighth story of the tower was entirely impractical, since it would mean that most of their time would have to be used in laborious climbing, they quickly changed their dwelling. They chose a suite of offices on the fifth floor, looking directly out over and into the cool green beauty of Madison Forest. In an hour or so, they cleared out the bats and spiders, the rubbish and the dust, and made the place very decently presentable. "Well, that's a good beginning, anyhow," remarked the engineer, standing back and looking critically at the finished work. "I don't see why we shouldn't make a fairly comfortable home out of this, for a while. It's not too high for ease, and it's high enough for safety--to keep prowling bears and wolves and--and other things from exploring us in the night." He laughed, but memories of the spear-head tinged his merriment with apprehension. "In a day or two I'll make some kind of an outer door, or barricade. But first, I need that ax and some other things. Can you spare me for a while, now?" "I'd _rather_ go along, too," she answered wistfully, from the window-sill where she sat resting. "No, not this time, please!" he entreated. "First I've got to go 'way to the top of the tower and bring down my chemicals and all the other things up there. "Then I'm going out on a hunt for dishes, a lamp, some oil and no end of things. You save your strength for a while; stay here and keep house and be a good girl!" "All right," she acceded, smiling a little sadly. "But really, I feel quite able to go." "This afternoon, perhaps; not now. Good-by!" And he started for the door. Then a thought struck him. He turned and came back. "By the way," said he, "if we can fix up some kind of a holster, I'll take one of those revolvers. With the best of this leather here," nodding at the Gladstone bag, "I should imagine we could manufacture something serviceable." They planned the holster together, and he cut it out with his knife, while she slit leather thongs to lash it with. Presently it was done, and a strap to tie it round his waist with--a crude, rough thing, but just as useful as though finished with the utmost skill.