Chapter 9—P. P. C.
The situation was indeed serious. What could poor Max do, he whose hours were already numbered, and whose last night might have come with the setting sun.
He did not sleep for an instant, not from the dread of never awaking, as Herr Schultz had said, but because his heart was too full of thoughts of Frankville and of the impending catastrophe.
“What shall I attempt?” he thought to himself. “To destroy that gun? Blow up the tower it stands on? How could I manage it? Escape! Escape? when my room is guarded by a couple of giants? And then suppose I could get away from Steeltown before the 13th of September, how could I help them? To be sure, if not our beloved city, I might at least save the inhabitants. I might fly to them shouting, “Escape! escape without delay! You ar
