"Well, of course I don't exactly mean a window," explained
Mr. Damon, "but we need fresh air."
"Fresh air!" There was a startled note in Mr. Swift's
voice as he repeated the words.
"Yes, I can hardly breathe in the living-room, and it's
not much better here."
"Why, there ought to be plenty of fresh air," went on the
inventor. "It is renewed automatically."
Tom jumped up and looked at an indicator. He uttered a
startled cry.
"The air hasn't been changed in the last hour!" he
exclaimed. "It is bad. There's not enough oxygen in it. I
notice it, now that I've stopped working. The gage indicates
it, too. The automatic air-changer must have stopped
working. I'll fix it."
He hurried to the machine which was depended on to supply
fresh air to the submarine.
"Why, the air tanks are empty!" the young inventor cried.
"We haven't any more air except what is in the ship now!"
"And we're rapidly breathing that up," added Captain
Weston solemnly.
"Can't you make more?" cried Mr. Damon. "I thought you
said you could make oxygen aboard the ship."
"We can," answered Mr. Swift, "but I did not bring along a
supply of the necessary chemicals. I did not think we would
be submerged long enough for that. But there should have
been enough in the reserve tank to last several days.
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