"Whew!" breathed Frank, stepping back. "What a big brute he is!"
The boys inspected the reptile more closely, repressing a shiver of repulsion as they saw the sinuous, scaly body lying there in the grass.
"We'd better get away from here. Path or no path. Where there's one snake there are more. Its mate is probably close by."
The boys retreated until they gained the comparative safety of the rocks.
"It's lucky for me you saw that stick," declared Frank. "He was coming right for me, and the automatic wasn't much use. He was moving so quickly I couldn't have shot him. He was stirred up and angry, too. I guess I must have disturbed his morning nap."
"We'll stick to the rocks for a while, I guess. It's time enough to go nosing around the interior when we've finished with the outside of the island."
The boys descended a rocky slope that led into a small bay protected from the sea by a black reef. There were no snakes in sight as they skirted the shore, and then they came upon a well-beaten path leading up the side of a cliff.
"By the look of this path, the island isn't as deserted as it looks," Frank commented. "Perhaps we'll have better luck following it."
The path wound about among the rocks, seemingly in an aimless fashion, now diverging toward the shore, now bringing them farther inland. They followed it doggedly, however, convinced that it must have an ending somewhere, and that the termination would give them some clue as to the people who had used the trail before.
The trail at length brought them in front of a huge black opening in the rocks. It was a cave, over twelve feet in height, dark, gloomy and forbidding.
"Now what?" asked Joe.
Frank glanced at his brother.
"Shall we go in?"
"You can't scare me. If you'll go, I'll go."
"The trail leads here. Other people must have gone in here. If they can do it, so can we."
"Lead on!"
Frank picked up a heavy stick lying among the rocks near the entrance to the cave. "You never know when we'll run into snakes around here," he remarked. "It's just as well to be ready for them."
Joe hunted around until he, too, found a club that would be serviceable in the event of their encountering more of the reptiles. He patted his hip to make sure that the automatic was still in his pocket.
"All set?"
"All set."
Frank stepped forward and entered the mouth of the cave. Joe followed at his heels.
For several yards the cave was illuminated by the light from outside, but as they went on the gloom became deeper until at length they were faced by impenetrable darkness. Frank had brought with him a pocket flashlight and he switched it on. A wide ring of light shone before them, showing the damp rock walls ahead.
They stepped forward cautiously. The floor of the cave sloped upward, but the great opening in the rock was of such extent that the ceiling was scarcely visible above in the light of the flash.
"I don't know where we're going, but we're on our way," said Frank, as they toiled on up over the rough rocks. His voice awakened tumultuous echoes that were flung back and forth from the massive walls.
The flashlight showed him at length a place where the floor dipped abruptly to a steep slope, although there was still a wide ledge at the top, sufficiently wide for them to proceed. He turned the light down the slope but could see nothing save inky blackness.
The boys proceeded slowly along the ledge.
There were numerous pebbles and small rocks underfoot. It was difficult to see these, because Frank was obliged to keep the flashlight centered on the trail ahead, and they were obliged to proceed cautiously in order to keep their footing. This circumstance led to disaster.
Unwittingly, Frank stepped on a small rock that rolled suddenly beneath his foot. He staggered, stepped on another rock that slipped to one side and then he sprawled forward, the flashlight spinning from his hand.
The light clattered among the rocks ahead and darkness fell about them.
"What's the matter?" asked Joe, alarmed.
"It's all right. I just slipped." Frank got to his feet. "I lost the light. It fell down here somewhere. Hang onto the back of my coat and I'll go ahead and get it."
Joe caught at the back of his coat and Frank slowly felt his way forward in the deep blackness.
Suddenly he lurched ahead, his feet sinking in a treacherous mass of sand and gravel. Wildly, he strove to retain his footing, but the effort was in vain. He felt himself slipping and, as he uttered an instinctive cry of warning to Joe, he was flung into space.
Joe, who had been clinging to Frank's coat, was wrenched to one side. He stepped forward, grasping for his brother, then he, too, went hurtling into the darkness.
They pitched down amid a clattering of rocks and pebbles. Then, with an icy shock, they plunged into a deep pool of water!
The Four Men
Profound darkness enveloped the Hardy boys.
The blackness of the icy pool was no blacker than the darkness of the air above.
Frank rose spluttering to the surface, unharmed by his fall, and as he splashed about, his first thought was for his brother.
"Joe!" he shouted. "Joe!"
There was no answer except from the echoes, and the rocks shouted mockingly back at him. "Joe.... Joe.... Joe...." growing fainter and fainter until they died away to a mere whisper.
Then there was a splashing almost at his side, as his brother rose to the surface of the pool and struck out blindly.
"Are you all right?" called Frank.
"I'm all right!" gasped Joe.
"Keep beside me. We'll try to find the edge of this pool."
Frank swam forward, groping ahead, until at length his fingers touched the smooth rock at the water's edge. But the rock was almost vertical and it was so smooth and slippery that there was no hope of a handhold. He swam to one side, feeling the rock as he went. Despair seized him as he found that the rock still rose steeply above. If they had fallen into a circular pit they were doomed.
In pitch darkness, then, they battled their way about the border of the pool until at length Frank's searching fingers closed about a rocky projection that seemed to indicate a change in the surface of the cliff.
He was right. There was a small ledge at this point, and he was able to drag himself up on it. There was room enough for both of them, and he turned and grasped Joe's hand, dragging him up on the rock after him. They crouched there in dripping clothes, breathing heavily after their exertion. Presently Frank began to grope upward, still examining the surface of the cliff.
He found that it sloped gradually, and that the surface was rough, with a number of foot-holds.
"I think we can climb it," he told Joe. "It's mighty dark, but if we can ever get back on the main ledge again we'll be all right." He said this because he judged that the place that they had found was on the side of the pool that lay toward the entrance of the cave. If they had emerged on the other side and had regained the ledge they would have been in another dilemma, because they might not have been able to cross the treacherous breach in the trail that had proved Frank's downfall.
Frank groped his way up the face of the slope. He dug his foot against the first ledge and raised himself, clutching at a projection in the rock above. Then, scrambling for a further foothold, he managed to draw himself up. Here the slope became even more gradual and by pressing himself close against the rock, he was able to crawl on up, until at length he came to a flat shelf of rock that he recognized as the main ledge that they had followed from the entrance to the cave.
"I'm up!" he shouted back to Joe, and then he heard a scraping on the rocks, as his brother also began the ascent.
Joe made the climb without difficulty and in a short time rejoined his brother on the ledge.
"I guess we'd better go back," Frank said. "This cave seems to lead to nothing but trouble. We're better off out in the open."
"Is the flashlight lost?"
"Yes. I think it smashed when it fell against the rocks. Anyway, I'm not going back to look for it in the dark. That ledge was treacherous enough even when we had the light."
Step by step, proceeding cautiously, the Hardy boys made their way back toward the entrance to the cave. Their return journey was not so precarious because the entrance to the cave shone before them as a vague gray light and guided them on their way.
They reached the entrance at last and again stepped out into the bright sunlight. At first they were dazzled, after the blackness of the cave.
"First of all, we're going to dry our clothes," declared Frank, as he hunted around among the rocks for sticks that might serve for firewood. "I'm soaking wet."
"Me too. Thank goodness, it's warm out here."
"I'm glad I carried the matches in this waterproof case, or we'd have been out of luck."
They managed to find enough sticks and dry leaves to enable them to start a fire and soon they were standing about in various stages of undress, drying their soaked garments before the blaze. This occupied some time and it was mid-afternoon before they were able to proceed. They had taken some sandwiches with them from the boat and they made a lunch of these while their clothes were drying so that eventually, when they donned their garments again, they were warm, fed and contented.
"Where do we go from here?" inquired Joe.
"Anywhere but into caves," his brother replied. "I think we might as well follow along the shore again. One thing is certain—there have been people on this island, and not long ago at that. Why—"
Suddenly he stopped.
"Listen."
They remained quiet. Frank had heard what seemed to him like a distant shout, and as they listened he heard it again. It was a faint call that echoed among the rocks far ahead of them.
The boys looked at one another. Frank pressed his fingers against his lips as a caution to remain silent. Then, from among the rocks above them they heard another shout, clearer this time, evidently in response to the one they had first heard. The first shout was again repeated; then silence fell.
"That proves it," said Frank quietly. "Therearepeople on this island."
"They're calling to each other."
"Sounded like that."
"We'll head down in the direction of the place that first shout came from. It was some one calling to some one else back up here among the rocks."
They went on in the direction from which the first call had been heard. For over ten minutes they proceeded carefully among the rocks until finally Frank caught sight of a curling column of smoke against the sky.
"Campfire," he said.
To approach this fire it was necessary for them to change their course and go up through the shrubbery toward higher ground. They moved slowly because they did not want to be seen until they had ascertained whether the strangers were friends or foes—and they were strongly suspicious that it might prove to be the latter.
A moving object ahead caught Frank's eye and he crouched down in the bushes, motioning to Joe. They peeped through the undergrowth and before them they could see a flat surface of rock in the center of which a fire had been built. Three men were about the fire. Two of these were sprawled in the grass at the verge of the rock while one was standing beside the fire stirring the contents of a pot that hung from a tripod above the blaze. It was this man that had first caught Frank's eye.
The strangers had not noticed the Hardy boys' approach.
"We'll crawl up closer," whispered Joe.
Frank nodded.
They began to make their way quietly forward through the bushes. Frank, who was in the lead, kept a wary eye for snakes and also kept watching the three men about the fire. The boys' approach demanded the utmost caution.
Foot by foot they made their way closer to the trio about the blaze until at last they were so close that they could distinguish what the men were saying. Also, they could distinguish the faces of the speakers.
They were the three men who had been in the motorboat the day of the storm in Barmet Bay!
Although the boys had expected this, they could scarcely restrain murmurs of astonishment. This proved definitely that the motorboat they had seen that morning was the same motorboat that had followed them in Barmet Bay.
The boys listened.
"No answer to that letter yet, is there?" one man was asking.
The fellow by the fire shook his head.
"No answer yet. Oh, well, we can wait."
"We can't wait forever," grumbled the other. "I'm not keen on staying on this confounded island much longer."
"There's lots worse places," remarked the man at his side significantly.
"What do you mean?"
"Jail."
"Oh, I suppose so. But I wish this business would get cleared up. I want to get back to the city and have a good time."
"We all want to get back. But there's no use rushing things," said the man standing by the fire. "We'll be well paid for our waiting."
"Do you think we've made a mistake? I tell you, it's been worrying me. If we've gummed up this job by doing a trick like that I'll never forgive myself."
"No—there's no mistake. Don't worry about that," scoffed the man at the fire. "Didn't we look things over mighty careful-like before we started?"
"Yes," admitted the other slowly. "But they keep harpin' on that tune all the time and I'm beginnin' to think there may be somethin' in it."
"Where's Red?" demanded the third man. "Didn't you call him?"
"Yeah, I called him. This is him now. He's comin' down from the grove."
Suddenly Frank clutched his brother by the arm and flattened himself against the ground. A footstep sounded immediately behind them. Twigs crackled.
Unobserved, a man had approached to within a few feet back of them, striding silently through the deep grass.
The boys remained motionless, wondering if they had been seen. For a breathless second they lay rigid in the bushes, then the footsteps passed by within a few inches of Frank's outstretched hand. They heard his deep voice:
"When did you all get back?"
"Just a few minutes ago," replied the man at the fire. "We left the boat in the bay. Anything new?"
"Nothing new," growled the deep voice. "The prisoners are still safe and sound." One of the other men chuckled.
"Have they quieted down yet?"
"No!" growled the newcomer. "They kicked up a big fuss all the time you were away. Still keep sayin' we've made a mistake."
"Mistake, nothin'!" the man by the fire declared. "There's been no mistake about this job! They can't fool me!"
The Storm
The four men had dinner about the campfire and when the meal was over the man they called Red got up.
"May as well go back to the cave," he remarked. "It's cooler than out here."
"It's hot enough to put a man to sleep out on these rocks," said one of the others. "Yeah, let's go on up to the cave."
"I don't like the idea of stayin' too close to the cave," growled the man who had been by the fire. "If anybody comes around here and should find us they'll have to look some to findthemas long as we're not near the cave, see?"
"That's all right, Pete," retorted Red. "If any one comes on this island we'll know of it in lots of time to clear away from the cave. We may as well keep cool."
There was a grumbled assent from Pete, and then the Hardy boys heard sounds of receding footsteps as the quartette strode off through the grass. They waited until the men were out of earshot, then peered through the undergrowth.
"Shall we follow them?" asked Joe eagerly.
"You bet we will! I want to know where this cave is that they're talking about. And I want to know who the prisoners are that they mentioned."
"Do you think it really could be Chet and Biff?"
"I'm almost sure it is. Didn't you hear the fellow saying that the prisoners kept insisting that there'd been a mistake? We've figured it out right all along. They captured Chet and Biff in mistake for us."
The Hardy boys began moving through the undergrowth on the trail of the four men. They crouched down and kept to the shelter of the bushes so that they were able to proceed at a good rate of speed without exposing themselves to view.
"If we can only get into the cave and get Chet and Biff free!" exclaimed Joe.
"It won't be any too easy. They seem to be guarding them pretty closely. First of all, we've got to be certain that it's them."
"I don't think there's any doubt of that. Everything hangs together too well. If we could get them out we could run for the boat and get them away to the mainland."
"That's what we'll have to plan on. But the main thing is to find this cave."
"Yes, of course."
The four men in the lead had entered the outskirts of a small grove toward the center of the island. Frank could just see the head and shoulders of the last man disappearing into the woods. He marked the spot where the fellow had entered the grove and the Hardy boys made toward it. They found it comparatively easy to follow the trail, for the others had beaten down the grass and twigs in passing, and in a few minutes they had reached the grove.
"Go slow," cautioned Frank, as they entered the shadow of the trees. "They may have seen us crossing the clearing."
They listened for a moment. They could hear the crashing of branches and the crackling of twigs, the distant hum of voices, as the quartette continued through the woods, so they went ahead.
The wood was steaming hot and the ground was dank underfoot. The grass was long and the leaves of the trees drooped of their own weight. Once Frank saw a blacksnake scurrying away through the grass, but none of the serpents molested them. The path the boys followed was beaten down by the feet of the men ahead and they made easy progress until at length the sight of a clearing ahead warned them to again exercise caution.
They crept along through the trees and underbrush until the clearing came fully into view. It was at that part of the interior of the island where the swamp gave way to the rocks, and the grassy clearing led in a gradual slope to a high wall of rock, at the base of which was the mouth of a cave. As the Hardy boys watched, they could see the four men at the opening. One of the fellows, a tall, dark man, was mopping his brow with a handkerchief, while another, a man with a shock of red hair, was just going into the cavern. The other two had flung themselves down on the rocks in the shadow of some overhanging bushes.
"So that's the cave!" exclaimed Frank.
"I wonder if Chet and Biff are inside."
"Most likely. I wish we could get a little closer."
"Too dangerous. They can see any one coming into the clearing."
This was true. The cave had evidently been chosen not only for its possibilities as a shelter but for its defensive virtues as well. It was plainly the hangout of the gang.
"We'll have our work cut out for us to get in there," muttered Frank. "The place is too much in the open. Our only chance is to wait until some of them go away."
"We might be able to sneak up closer when they're asleep."
"We'll try it. The only thing for us to do right now is wait until they're all asleep."
The boys settled themselves down in the bushes, prepared for a vigil until nightfall. It was now late in the afternoon, and when Frank glanced up at the sky he saw that clouds had gathered. The sunshine had gone, for a dense black cloud obscured the sun. The sultry and oppressive heat of the afternoon had evidently presaged a storm.
"Looks like rain."
"It sure does," agreed Joe, looking up.
As though in corroboration, there was an ominous rumble of thunder. The wind had died down. Every leaf, every blade of grass was still. The clouds were massing silently.
However, the storm held off, and although the sky was overcast and threatening, twilight fell without rain. Frank and Joe, from their hiding place in the bushes, watched the four men moving aimlessly about the cave that afternoon. Two of them had remained inside the cave for a long time while the other pair chatted on the rocks outside.
Night came at last. From the interior of the cave came the flicker of flames, and the Hardy boys knew that the gang was making a fire for the night.
The heat was still oppressive. Darkness fell without moon or stars.
"We'll soon be able to creep up on them now," said Frank. "If we can only get close enough to hear what they're saying we'll probably be able to make sure if they have Chet and Biff with them."
The boys waited until the fire had died down. The four men had all disappeared within the cave.
"Quiet, now," Frank whispered. He began to make his way out of the undergrowth. Joe followed close behind. They crept up toward the entrance to the cave.
They were about half-way across the open space when the whole scene about them was suddenly revealed with startling clarity in the livid glow of a flash of lightning. This was followed immediately by a crash of thunder that seemed to shake the very rocks on which they stood. As though this were but a prelude, rain began to fall, gently at first, then with increasing force. Other lightning flashes followed. Then the storm broke in all its fury.
A gradually rising wind began to rake the tree-tops and the swishing of leaves and creaking of limbs could be plainly heard. The dull booming of the waves on the distant shore, the moaning of the wind, the driving spatter of rain, the constant peals of thunder, continually rose in volume, and the rain poured furiously from the black skies above.
The storm had broken so suddenly that the Hardy boys were taken aback. Their first impulse was to race for the shelter of the cave, but second thought told them that this would be unwise, for the men in the cave might be aroused by the storm.
"We'd better go back to the boat," said Frank, turning about. "It's liable to be wrecked."
Joe had almost forgotten about their motorboat. It was on the seaward side of the island and the storm was coming in from the sea. Although the boat was partly protected by the little cove into which they had brought it, there was every danger that the storm might cast the craft up on the rocks and wreck it. The consequences, in that case, would be grave. They would be unable to escape from Blacksnake Island at all without giving themselves up to the gang.
The boys turned and fled back across the rocks. Rain streamed down upon them. Thunder crashed. Lightning flickered, illuminating for brief seconds the tossing trees and the tumbled rocks before them.
Joe, during the afternoon, had occupied himself ascertaining the position of the grove and the cave relative to the little bay in which they had left the motorboat and he had come to the conclusion that the grove was not far away from the end of the island and almost in a direct line with the cove. Now, in their mad race toward the shore, he took the lead, heading toward the rocky bluffs.
The Hardy boys stumbled through the grove, keeping somehow to the trail. They were aided by the lightning flashes that gave spasmodic illumination, revealing the soggy leaves, the black branches, the tossing tree-tops bowed in the wind.
The storm had become a din of furious sound. The gale shrieked its way across the island from the booming sea and the thunder rolled like a battery of cannon while the rain beat down on the forest in a drumming downpour.
The boys were soaked to the skin. They fled toward the shore, keeping their course more by instinct than judgment, and all the time there was the dread thought in their minds that they were lost if theSleuthshould be cast up on the rocks and wrecked.
A Startling Announcement
The Hardy boys reached the cove in the nick of time. Although the place was protected from the full fury of the sea, the high wind had lashed the waves to such an extent that the boat was pitching and tossing about, in imminent danger of running aground.
The beach was sandy, however, and after some maneuvering, the boys were able to run the boat up on the shore, where it was safe enough. The storm by this time was showing some signs of abating, although the rain was still pouring in undiminished vigor. Frank rummaged about in the boat until he located their oilskins, and these they donned, although their clothes were already drenched.
"I'd hate to be out at sea on a night like this," shouted Frank, as the lightning revealed the tossing inferno of waves under the black skies.
At that moment a light flashed away out to the right.
"A boat!" exclaimed Joe.
"Heading toward the island!"
They kept their eyes fixed on the place where they had seen the light. In a few moments a vivid splash of lightning cut the darkness and they had a momentary glimpse of a small motorboat tossing about in the black waves.
"He'll never make the shore in this storm," said Frank, shaking his head.
"Can it be Tony?"
"I hardly think so. He wouldn't come close in such a storm."
"That's true, too."
"I think it's some outsider."
"Do you think we can help him?"
"I don't think so. He'll probably pile up on the rocks."
"Perhaps he's one of the gang."
"That's so," agreed Frank. "I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps he knows where he's going, after all. Still, it won't hurt to go down the shore a bit and see if he makes his landing all right."
They went on down the shore in the darkness, picking their way among the rocks, feeling in their faces the salt spray blown in from the sea. The dull booming of the surf and the howling of the wind provided an almost deafening cacophony of sound. Every little while, a lightning flash would reveal the little boat, slowly heading in toward the shore.
Suddenly Frank stopped short, grasping his brother by the arm.
"I saw a light ahead."
"I thought I did too. Right on the shore."
They waited. In a moment the light reappeared. It bobbed slowly up and down and appeared to be moving down toward the beach.
"Somebody is going down to meet the boat. It must be one of the gang," declared Frank.
The boys went forward more cautiously. The next flash of lightning showed that Frank's assumption was correct. They could see four men in oilskins trudging down among the rocks. The man in the lead carried a powerful electric lantern that cast a vivid beam of light upon the rain-washed boulders.
They saw that the man in the motorboat was heading toward a small bay that afforded ideal protection from the storm. The entrance was very narrow and great waves dashed over the rocks with showers of white spray, but the man in the boat guided his craft skillfully into the channel. He was in difficulties for a few moments, but by good steering brought the craft around. Then it shot forward, making the channel neatly, and surged down toward the beach.
The men in oilskins were there to meet him. The boat was run up on the sand and the lone steersman sprang out and splashed through the water. For a few moments the five men conferred, standing there on the dark beach, with the wind whipping their oilskins about their legs, the lantern gleaming like a white eye, and the rain pouring down upon them. They looked like five sinister birds of prey as they stood there in the storm, and then they turned and began to walk back up over the rocks toward the center of the island.
"This must be their landing place," said Frank. "And that means they must have a good trail from here to the cave."
"Let's follow them," suggested Joe.
"Just what I was going to say. We know our boat is safe, and we can't get any wetter than we are now."
The boys therefore made their way down to the place where the five men had been standing. They could see the reflection of the lantern as it bobbed up and down while the quintette trudged back toward the trees, and they followed. True enough, there was a well-defined trail among the rocks and they made easy progress, considering the darkness and the fact that the trail was unknown to them.
The height of the storm had passed and the rain had settled down to a steady downpour. The roar of the thunder had diminished to an occasional distant rumble, and the lightning flashes were less frequent. The wind, too, had died down.
The light ahead guided them up the trail, across the rocks, then into the grove again, and in a short time they again emerged on the edge of the clearing and could see the dull mass of the granite slope before them. The fire still gleamed, and they could see the five men go into the cave, which was brilliantly illuminated for a moment in the light of the lantern which the first man held so that the others might pass.
"We may as well go right up," said Frank. "We've come this far. There isn't any use backing down now."
"I'm with you."
They crossed the rocks and crept up toward the entrance to the cave. They found tumbled boulders about the opening that afforded good protection and they were able to make their way up to within a few feet of the cave mouth without danger of being seen. The wind and the rain still created sufficient noise to drown out any sounds that they might have made in their approach.
Through an opening in the boulders, they peeped into the cave. As they were in darkness they knew there was little chance that they would be seen by the men within; as for the latter, they were in the full glare of the fire, which one of the men had replenished from a pile of wood near by. The boys, therefore, could see without being seen.
The men were divesting themselves of their oilskins, and one of them, the newcomer, had flung himself down on a pile of blankets, as though exhausted.
"I tell you it was a tough trip," he was saying. "I was sure I was going to be wrecked. I couldn't find the passage. If you hadn't come along with the lantern when you did I'd have been washed up on the rocks and the boat would have been smashed to pieces."
"Well, you're here, and that's all there is to it," declared the man they called Red. "You shouldn't have started out when you saw a storm was coming up."
"I didn't know it was going to be so bad. Anyway, I thought I'd get here before it broke."
"It must have been good news that brought you out here to-night," declared one of the others, sitting down.
"I'll say it was good news," said the newcomer. "Mighty good news."
"What is it?" they asked eagerly.
"I've found out why Fenton Hardy didn't pay any attention to that letter."
The boys listened eagerly. At the mention of their father they knew that all their suspicions had been verified. They waited tensely as the conversation went on.
"Why?" asked Red.
"He didn't get it."
"Why didn't he get it?"
The newcomer paused and smiled.
"The reason he didn't get it," he said, slowly and triumphantly, "is because we've got him."
"Got him?"
"We've got Fenton Hardy!"
"How?"
"Where?"
"How do you know?"
Questions were fired at the newcomer from all parts of the cave. He was enjoying the sensation he had caused. As for the hidden listeners, they experienced only a sickening amazement.
"The gang got him in Chicago last night. I just got word this afternoon. He went out there to catch Baldy; but the boys got wind of it and they laid a trap for him. He stepped right into it."
"Good!" exclaimed the red-headed man, rubbing his hands. "What could be sweeter? We've got Hardy and we've got his sons—"
"By the way, how are they acting?" asked the newcomer.
"Oh, still kicking up a fuss—the young brats," growled the man called Pete. "They say they ain't the Hardy boys at all."
"Don't worry about that. Bring 'em out here."
One of the men got up from beside the fire and disappeared into the rear of the cave. His footsteps died away and the Hardy boys judged that there must be some sort of inner chamber to the place. In a short time he returned, pushing ahead of him two boys. Frank and Joe peered forward, striving to catch a glimpse of the lads' features.
With a clanking of chains, the boys emerged into the firelight.
They were Chet Morton and Biff Hooper!
The lads were handcuffed and their ankles were bound by a gleaming length of chain, just long enough to enable them to walk. They appeared thin and tired, their shoulders drooped wearily, and as they stood before the fire they said nothing.
"Well, Hardys," said the red-haired man in a harsh voice, "we have some news for you."
"We've told you before," said Chet. "You've made a mistake. We're not the Hardy boys."
The man named Pete stepped suddenly forward from the shadows and cuffed Chet savagely on the side of the head.
"Shut up!" he snarled, and cuffed Biff Hooper as well. "No more of that. We're tired of listenin' to it. You're the Hardy boys, all right, and it won't do you no good to deny it."
"You've made a mistake!" insisted Chet stubbornly.
"We'll show you how much of a mistake we've made!" roared one of the men. "We brought you out here to tell you something. Our men have got your father at last."
"Mr. Hardy?" exclaimed Chet greatly taken aback.
"Yes, Mr. Hardy!" exclaimed Red, mimicking him. "That shot sunk home, didn't it? We've got him, and we've got you, and we'll starve you into making your mother come across with the money we want. If you have been holding out, hoping your father would come for you, it's no good now. We've got him and we've got you, so you may as well give up."
"There's no use asking us," declared Biff. "We're not the Hardy boys."
Red cuffed him viciously over the ears again. Biff staggered back from the blow.
"Oh, take them back and chain them up again," Red said, in disgust. "Let 'em starve for a while and they'll come around and tell the truth!"
"If I could get loose for about two minutes I'd show you—," declared Biff, clenching his fists.
But the red-haired man only laughed contemptuously. The Hardy boys, from their hiding place, saw Pete come forward and drag Chet and Biff back into the darkness at the rear of the cave, their chains clanking as they went.
The Alarm
The Hardy boys were quivering with excitement. They had found the whereabouts of their chums; they had learned the dismaying news that Fenton Hardy had been captured by his enemies; they had discovered the hiding place of the gang. All this had taken place in a few fleeting hours.
Their first problem was to release Chet and Biff. But at first glance that seemed impossible. For when Pete came back into the cave he flung a bunch of keys into the sand beside the fire and laughed harshly.
"They'll get tired bein' chained up to a rock after a few more days," he said. "They'll come through yet."
"We can wait as long as they can," declared Red.
"If they'll only write a letter to their mother now and tell her we want that ransom we'll be sitting pretty. Fenton Hardy can't come after them—that's certain."
"Well, it's a good day's work. I'm goin' to sleep," said one of the other men. He pulled a blanket about him and curled up beside the fire.
"Good idea," remarked Red. "We might as well all turn in."
Shortly afterward, the various members of the gang were sprawled about in their blankets on the sand. Frank noticed that they all slept on the same side of the fire, and also noted that the reason for this was that on one side of the cave the floor was a ledge of rock.
"We'll wait till they go to sleep," he whispered to Joe.
His brother nodded. The two boys remained crouched among the rocks. The rain had died away to a mere drizzle.
Gradually the fire, untended, died down, and there was only a faint, rosy glow through the interior of the cave. Two or three of the men had talked together in low murmurs for a while, but gradually their voices died away and soon the boys could hear their snores. It was nearly an hour, however, before they were satisfied that all the men were asleep.
"I'm going in after Chet and Biff," whispered Frank, with determination.
"I'm with you."
"The keys are still lying beside the fire."
"Good."
Frank rose from his cramped position among the rocks. Joe followed his example. Quietly, they moved toward the entrance of the cave.
The snores of the slumbering men were unbroken. Frank took the lead and tiptoed slowly forward. Step by step, keeping a wary eye on the recumbent forms wrapped in the blankets, the boys made their way into the cave.
Frank remembered where the keys had been thrown, and now he saw them in the sand. The faint glow of the firelight gleamed on them.
The keys were on the side of the fire nearest the men. It would be a delicate job to get possession of them. He bent forward and crawled on hands and knees. Joe came silently behind.
Frank skirted the fire, then groped carefully forward.
There was a mutter from the shadows. One of the men stirred in his sleep.
The boys remained rigid.
The muttering died away. After a long pause, Frank again reached for the keys.
His hands closed over them. He gripped them tightly so that they would not jangle together. Then he moved slowly back onto the rock ledge, the keys safely in his grasp.
The Hardy boys continued their silent journey toward the darkness in the rear of the cave. The dying fire cast little light.
Little by little they edged forward into the depths of the cave, past the sleeping men. The slightest noise, they knew, might be sufficient to arouse one of the gang. They proceeded with the utmost caution toward the back of the cavern.
At length Frank found what he sought. It was a dark patch in the rear wall—the entrance to the inner chamber.
He reached it safely and groped his way through into the pitchy blackness beyond. He stopped and listened. The sound of deep breathing told him that his two chums were asleep within.
He reached back and laid a restraining hand on Joe's arm, indicating that he was to remain at the mouth of the inner chamber and keep watch. Joe realized his intention and remained where he was. Frank then continued.
Cautiously, he groped about in the darkness, moving slowly forward. At length his hand fell upon an outstretched arm, then a shoulder which stirred slightly.
He bent forward and shook the sleeper.
"Chet!" he whispered.
The other boy moved and began to sit up. The chains jangled.
"Quiet!" whispered Frank, fearing that his chum might be alarmed at this sudden and surprising awakening and make some sound.
"Who is it?" whispered the other.
"It's me—Frank. I've come to help you get free."
From the darkness he heard a gasp of surprise, but it was quickly silenced.
"I'll waken Biff," replied Chet. Frank had merely guessed at this being Chet Morton whom he had awakened, and found that his guess had been correct.
In a few minutes Biff had been aroused.
"The men are asleep," whispered Frank. "Don't ask questions. Keep quiet until we get outside. I have the keys. Where is the lock?"
"We're chained to the rock," Chet whispered in return. He grasped Frank's hand, guiding it to the wall of the cave until his fingers closed on a heavy padlock. "There you are!"
Frank tried several keys before he found the one that fitted, but at length the padlock snapped open. He grasped the chain with his other hand so that it did not fall to the floor with a clatter. He lowered it gently.
"Now for the handcuffs."
Chet extended his wrists and Frank finally located the small key that opened the handcuffs. He removed them, then released Chet's feet in a similar manner. Then he crawled over to Biff, releasing him from his chains.
All this work had been done with a minimum of noise, and as there had been no warning whisper from Joe, they assumed that the men in the outer cave had not been aroused.
Frank led the way out, the three crawling on hands and knees into the main cave. They could see Joe crawling ahead of them, past the ruby glow of the embers.
The snores of the men continued without interruption. Frank was jubilant. The most dangerous part of the affair was over. Could they but gain the entrance in safety and reach their motorboat in the cove before the gang should discover that their prisoners had escaped, all would be well.
Frank caught sight of a flashlight lying in the sand. His own light had been lost in the rock cave the previous day and he knew they would need a light to regain their boat.
He reached carefully over for it. His hands closed about the black cylinder and the light was his.
Chet and Biff nodded appreciatively when they saw what he had done. The flashlight would be a big factor in aiding their escape.
Joe had reached the entrance to the cave by now. They saw him get to his feet and glide silently out into the darkness.
Frank reached the end of the ledge. The flashlight was clutched in his hand. Slowly he rose to his feet. But a small pebble betrayed him. He lost his balance and staggered for a second.
Had it not been for the flashlight the emergency would have passed because he flung out his hand and supported himself against the wall of the cave. But the heavy flashlight struck a loose projection of rock.
There was a grinding clatter of stone as the rock came free.
In the dead silence of the cave the noise seemed magnified many times. Frank knew that the sleepers would be aroused. He threw caution to the winds.
He leaped forward, gaining the entrance at a bound. Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, seeing that nothing was to be gained by further caution, scrambled to their feet and raced in pursuit.
The noise of the dislodged rock had already wakened one of the men. He raised himself on elbow in alarm and peered about. Then he saw the fleeing figures in the mouth of the cave and heard the running footsteps.
He sprang at once to his feet.
"They're getting away!" he roared. "Wake up, men! They're getting away!"
Instantly pandemonium prevailed within the cave. The men hastily tumbled out of their blankets, bewildered at being aroused from slumber.
The Hardy boys and their chums, racing across the rocky stretch on the outskirts of the cave, heard the uproar and the cry:
"After them! Don't let them escape!"
Capture
The men in the cave lost no time in taking up the pursuit. They had been sleeping in their clothes and, once aroused, hurried out of the cave in search of the fugitives.
The boys raced across the rocks. Behind them they could hear shouts as the gangsters called to each other. Then came the crash of a revolver as one of the men pumped shot after shot in their direction.
Biff sprawled full length on the rocks.
"Are you hurt?" asked Joe, stopping to help him rise.
"No, I'm all right," gasped Biff, scrambling to his feet. He had suffered bruises but seemed otherwise uninjured. However, when he began to run again Joe noticed that he was limping and his progress was slower than formerly.
Frank had the battered flashlight, but he did not dare switch it on for fear of revealing their whereabouts to the men. The latter, however, were stumbling along behind, following the trail by reason of the noise the boys made in their mad flight toward the trees.
The men had the advantage in that they knew every inch of the rocky ground. The boys had to proceed more cautiously because it was unfamiliar to them, especially to Chet and Biff.
Biff was limping along in the rear and Joe purposely slowed down his pace so as to remain with his chum. But the delay was fatal. Out of the darkness came one of their pursuers, and with a growl of triumph he flung himself at Biff.
His arms encircled the lad's legs in a perfect tackle and Biff went down with a crash. Joe wheeled about and plunged upon them, striking out desperately to fight off Biff's attacker. They struggled fiercely in the darkness. Joe felt his fist crash into the man's face and he heard a grunt of pain. Biff was wriggling out of his assailant's grasp, and the boys might indeed have made their escape had it not been that the other men came running up out of the shadows.
With a roar of fury, two of them plunged at the boys and hauled them away from their comrade.
"After the other two!" shouted a voice, which they recognized as that of Red, "They're heading for the bushes!"
Joe and Biff found themselves roughly hauled to their feet, their arms held tightly behind them. They heard the clatter of footsteps as two of the other men ran after Frank and Chet.
"Back to the cave with 'em," growled Red. "Looks like we've got one of the guys that helped 'em get away. I've been thinkin' all day that there was some one hangin' around here that we didn't know about."
The lads were shoved and pushed ahead of their captors, dragged and bundled across the rocks until they reached the cave. Then they were roughly shoved through the entrance into the light of the fire.
"Ah! I thought so!" declared Red. "One of the guys that tried to help them get away." He peered closer at Joe. "Blessed if it ain't one of those two boys that was in the boat with the Hardys that day."
One of the other men ordered the boys to sit down, and they crouched beside the stirred-up fire, sick at heart, wondering how it fared with Frank and Chet.
When Joe and Biff were captured it was Chet's first impulse to turn and go back, but a warning shout from Frank restrained him.
"Keep running!" he called. "If they're caught we'll have a chance to get help."
The wisdom of this course flashed through Chet's mind at once. If they went to the aid of their comrades they would probably all be captured and in a worse position than before. But if two, or even one, managed to escape, it would be possible to bring help to the island and effect the release of the others.
Chet heard Frank crash into the undergrowth. It was pitch dark, and although he tried to follow he knew he had left the trail. He did not call out because he was afraid of revealing his whereabouts to the men behind, but he blundered on, hoping to catch up with Frank. As for the latter, he was quite unaware of Chet's predicament.
Chet crashed into the bushes. Branches whipped his face. Roots gripped his feet. He struggled on through the dense growth, blindly, in the darkness. Far ahead of him he could hear Frank making his way through the underbrush, but when he tried to go toward the sound he found that his sense of direction was confused.
He struggled on for some time. Suddenly he saw a patch of gray light ahead. It was the open sky and he soon plunged out of the undergrowth into a rocky clearing. He breathed a sigh of relief.
But the relief was short-lived.
A dark figure loomed up before him. He dodged swiftly to one side, but a huge hand caught at his clothing. He was spun violently around and then he was caught by the collar, despite his struggles.
"Got you!" grunted the dark figure, with satisfaction. "Now if we can only get the other—"
He said no more, but shoved Chet before him across the rocks. Then it was that Chet found that, instead of fleeing farther away from the cave he had really made a circle in the wood and had emerged directly into the clearing again. He was sick with disappointment. He wriggled and twisted in the grasp of his captor, but the man was too strong for him and he shook Chet vigorously, tripping his feet from under him.
"None of that! You come along with me!" he rasped.
And in a few minutes Chet was shoved back into the cave, where he found Biff Hooper and Joe Hardy crouched silently beside the fire, with downcast faces.
Frank alone had escaped.
Frank knew that Chet had got lost but he did not dare call out, for he could also hear the running tramp of feet that told him their pursuers had not yet given up the chase. If he could only reach the cove and get the motorboat started he would be able to go over to the mainland for help. If only one escaped, it would be sufficient to save the others. He could not afford to risk his own capture in seeking Chet.
He crashed on through the bushes, trying to make as little noise as possible. But he was off the trail, and the tangled undergrowth was growing denser with every forward step he took.
He still clutched the flashlight that had been the cause of their undoing. He was glad he had found it, because in the pitch blackness he was unable to find his way. He could hear the roar of the waves, but they appeared to come from all sides and he was unable to judge accurately the route to the shore.
Frank decided that he would not make use of the flashlight until it was absolutely necessary. There was too much danger that its gleam might be seen by one of the searchers. And he knew that the gang would not give up the chase as long as they knew he was on the island.
"Perhaps they don't know there are two of us," he thought. "If Joe can convince them that he rescued Chet and Biff single-handed they won't know about me and they won't keep on searching."
In this lay his only hope—in this and in the chance that he would be able to reach the motorboat and make his escape before being seen. But if the gangsters knew he was still free they would leave no stone unturned to find him, as they would know that if he once left the island they were lost.
He blundered about in the deep thicket, turning vainly this way and that. Great vines trailed across his face; he brushed aside stubborn branches and soggy wet leaves; he stumbled over roots and little bushes; the deep grass rustled and hissed at his feet.
There was no other way. He would have to use the flashlight. The darkness was impenetrable. Trees and bushes enclosed him. He could not see where he was going.
He switched on the light and, to one side of him, descried a sort of passage among the bushes, so he headed in that direction. He managed to get free of the worst of the vines and the thick foliage and found himself in a forest aisle. He went down it, in the direction of the booming surf. His heart beat quickly at the thought that he was now free and that he would soon be back at the boat. What had happened to Chet? He judged that his chum was either captured now or lost in the grove. Frank knew that he could not wait to learn Chet's fate because any delay would be fatal to them all.
He had switched out the flashlight and was plunging along through the darkness when the forest aisle suddenly took a twist and he found himself again floundering in the midst of trees and trailing vines that entangled him.
Frank switched on the flashlight again.
And a second later he heard a grim voice from close by:
"Throw up your hands!"
He wheeled about and found himself suddenly bathed in a ring of light. Some one was standing only a few feet away with a flashlight leveled at him, and in the beam of the flashlight he could see a glittering revolver aimed directly toward him.
"Throw up your hands!" rasped the voice again, "or you'll be shot."
Slowly Frank raised his hands above his head.
"That's better. Now march back ahead of me. Back to the cave, young fellow. We've got you all now. Forward march!"
Back to the Cave
"This is a piece of luck!" declared the red-headed man.
He squatted by the fire with his arms folded and surveyed the four prisoners. Frank and Joe had been dragged back to the cave with the others and were now bound and helpless, while the gangsters confronted them.
"Who are these two?" asked the man called Pete, indicating the Hardy boys.
Red shook his head.
"We've seen 'em before. They were in the boat the day we were looking these two birds over," he remarked, gesturing toward Chet and Biff.
"What's your names?" demanded Pete gruffly.
The Hardy boys glanced at one another. Their captors were not yet aware of their identity and they did not know whether to admit it or not. Frank resolved on silence as the best course.
"Find out!" he retorted.
An ugly look crept into Red's face.
"Is that so?" he snarled. "Won't talk, eh? I'll soon make you talk."
He leaned forward and wrenched open Frank's coat. Frank's wrists were handcuffed and he was helpless to resist. Red pulled him roughly to one side and groped in the inner pocket of the coat. There was a rustle of paper and he withdrew two or three letters. Frank bit his lip in exasperation. He had forgotten about the letters and he knew that any hope of concealing his identity was now lost.
The red-headed man brought the letters over to the fire and squinted at the addresses. His eyes opened wide; his jaw dropped.
"Frank Hardy!" he gasped.
"What?" demanded one of the other men.
"All these letters are addressed to Frank Hardy!" declared the astonished gangster. "What d'you know about that!"
With a sudden movement, Pete grasped Joe by the collar and held him while he turned his pockets inside out. Finally, with an air of triumph, he produced Joe's membership card in a Bayport athletic association, on which his name was written in full.
"Joe Hardy!" he read. "Why, these are the real Hardy boys!"
The gangsters looked at one another with crestfallen expressions, but their momentary astonishment at realization of their mistake was quickly changed to rejoicing.
"I told you we weren't the Hardys," put in Chet. "I told you all along that you were making a mistake."
"Shut up!" ordered Red. "Yes, men, we made a mistake, all right. We didn't have the Hardy boys after all. But now we have got 'em! I'll say this is a piece of luck! We've got the whole caboodle now."
Meanwhile one of the men had been going more thoroughly through the boys' pockets. Now he grunted.
"Armed! Would you believe it? Brats like these!"
"Take the guns away," came the order from Red.
"What'll we do with the others?" demanded one of the gangsters.
"With the two we caught in the first place? We'll hang right onto 'em. We'll hold the Hardy boys for ransom the way we intended to, and we'll make some money out of the other two as well. You two boys," he said, turning to Chet and Biff, "have your people got money?"
"Find out!" snapped Chet, following Frank's example.
"We'll find out, all right!" rasped Pete. "We'll find out. And if they haven't got money it'll be all the worse for the pack of you!" He chuckled suddenly. "We'll make a real haul out of this, men! Four ransoms!"
"Yes, and now that we have the real Hardy boys we'll give Fenton Hardy a few anxious minutes," laughed another of the men, from a dark corner of the cave.
"Where is our father?" asked Frank.
Red scratched his chin meditatively.
"You're gettin' curious, hey? Want to know where your father is? I'll tell you. He's in a safe place where he can't get out of. Our men out in the West got him."
"What are they going to do with him?"
"Ah!" said Red, with an air of mystery. "What are they goin' to do with him? That's the question. One thing is certain—they're goin' to let him live until we collect ransom for you two."
"And after that?"
"After that? Well, it's up to the boss. But I'm thinkin' he'll never let Fenton Hardy loose again. He's too dangerous. Maybe, now, my young friends—"
"Don't talk too much, Red," warned Pete, stirring the fire. "Put these kids all in the inner cave and let's go to sleep again."
"I guess you're right, Pete," agreed the red-headed man. "It don't pay to let 'em know too much."
With that, the Hardy boys and their two chums were bundled into the other cave, where a long chain was passed beneath the links of their handcuffs and passed through a staple embedded in the rock. The chain was fastened with a heavy padlock. Frank's heart sank as he heard the padlock snapped. There seemed to be no hope of escape now. They were securely chained together in the darkness of the inner cave.
Their captors left them.
"I guess you'll be safe enough in there until morning," grunted Pete as he departed, last of all. The gangsters returned to their fire and, after a brief discussion in low tones, they wrapped themselves up in their blankets once more.
The boys talked in whispers. Chet and Biff were anxious to know how the Hardy boys had followed them to the island and, in a few words, Frank told them of the alarm their disappearance had occasioned and of how they had decided to take a chance on searching Blacksnake Island.
"If only we could have got away!" muttered Joe. "We'd have been out toward the mainland in the boat by now!"
"If even one of us could have got away he could have gone for help," Frank whispered. "Oh, well—here we are, and we have to make the best of it!"
"I'm worried about what they said about dad."
"So am I. We've simplygotto get out of here. If we can get word to the Chicago police they may be able to find him before it's too late!"
The boys were silent. The news that Fenton Hardy had been captured and that he was in the hands of a merciless gang cast a cloud of gloom over them all. They realized only too well their own helplessness in the situation.
"I'm going to try to smash the lock on this pair of handcuffs," Joe whispered finally. "It seemed rusty to me, when they put them on."
"We tried that with ours," whispered Chet. "It wasn't any use."
"I may have better luck."
"Wait until you're sure the gang are asleep," whispered Biff. "They might hear you."
The boys lapsed into silence. The darkness of the cave was impenetrable. Near the entrance they could see a faint glow of pink from the embers of the fire in the outer cavern, but that was all. They could not even see one another.
The fact that they were chained together made it impossible for them to rest comfortably. The gangsters had not even provided them with a blanket.
"We've been chained in here every night since they caught us," Chet whispered. "We've had to sleep on the bare rock."
Finally the silence was broken by the sound of steel against rock. Joe was trying to break the lock of his handcuffs. The effort was difficult, because his hands were cuffed behind him. But, as he had said, the handcuffs were rusty and of an antiquated type. Against the hard rock he could feel them gradually giving way.
For more than ten minutes he battered the lock, the steel digging into his wrists. He worked as quietly as possible, with long intervals between each attempt. For a while he was afraid the effort would be fruitless, as even the rusty steel seemed obdurate. Then, suddenly, he felt the lock give way. He eased his hands out of the cuffs with a sigh of relief.
"I'm free," he whispered to the others.
There were suppressed exclamations of delight.
"How are you going to get us out?" whispered Frank.
"I'll try to find the keys."
A low murmur from the other cave arrested his attention. Swiftly he leaned back against the wall. One of the gangsters was awake. The boys listened. They heard a movement in the outer cave, a jangling of keys, and then a heavy footstep.
Joe thrust his arms behind his back and feigned slumber. He could hear some one entering their cave.
Suddenly a bright light flashed in his face. The man on guard had come to inspect the captives and he brought with him a flashlight. Joe kept his eyes closed and breathed heavily. He hoped desperately that the man would not inspect their handcuffs.
The fellow appeared satisfied and in a few moments went away. Through narrowed eyelids Joe could see his dark form as he reached the passage between the two caves. He saw the round white circle of light shine for a moment on a small rock shelf in the passageway and he saw the guard reach up and toss a bundle of keys on the shelf. Then the man went on his way, switching out the light.
Joe's heart beat faster.
This was luck for which he had not dared hope. He now knew where the keys were kept. Could he but reach them without arousing the guard their chances of escape were multiplied tenfold.
He waited until it seemed that hours had passed. None of the boys dared so much as whisper. The silence was profound. From the outer cave they could hear snores, but whether the guard was asleep or not they could not tell.
Joe realized that they would have to make their attempt before dawn, but he also knew that he could afford to wait, because the hours just before the break of day are the hours in which the average person sleeps most soundly, and there was every chance that the guard might be asleep by then as well.
At last he decided that it was time to act.
He got up quietly and began to make his way across the cave. Inch by inch he crawled across the rocky floor. He scarcely dared breathe for fear of disturbing one of their captors.
He was at the passage at last. The fire in the outer cave had died down. There was scarcely a vestige of light. This gave him hope, for it seemed to indicate that the guard had fallen asleep, otherwise he would have replenished the fire to protect himself against the night chill.
Joe groped for the little rock shelf. At first it eluded him, but at last his hand closed upon the keys. Carefully, he raised them, his hand clutching them tightly to prevent a betraying jangle of sound.
He turned slowly to make his way back to the others. In silence he reached them and began to grope for the chain that bound them together. He found the chain at last, then the padlock, and felt in the darkness for the key to fit it.
The key at last! It was larger than the others, which he judged were the handcuff keys. The padlock snapped and he unhooked the chain.
"That's that," he whispered, quietly. "Now for the handcuffs."
One by one the other boys presented their shackled wrists to him in the darkness and he groped for the key that would set them free. In a tense silence he fumbled with the locks and the handcuffs but, one by one, the handcuffs opened, one by one the boys moved quietly aside, rubbing their chafed wrists.
At last the task was finished. They were free again.
But there still remained the outer cave!