Separated
Frank Hardy led the way.
He paused in the passage for a few seconds, surveying the scene in the outer cave.
All the men were asleep. They were rolled up in their blankets and lay sprawled in the shadows. There was merely a faint crimson glow from the embers of the fire.
He did not go on all fours; he just crouched low as he moved across the cave among the sleepers. Quick, sure footsteps, as silent as those of a cat, brought him to the outer entrance.
So much depended on their escape that the lads were uncannily silent. They seemed like mere shadows as they progressed, one by one, to the mouth of the cave. There was not a sound. The snores of the sleeping gangsters were unbroken.
Frank waited at the entrance. Chet joined him in a few moments. Then came Biff, and finally Joe. Safely out of the cave, the boys halted for a second on the rocks.
"I'll take the lead," whispered Frank. "Join hands and follow me."
It was pitch dark and the rocky path to the outskirts of the wood, he knew, would be treacherous. He reached back and grasped Chet's hand. Then he moved forward, carefully testing every step. On him depended the success of their flight to the wood. One stumble, one dislodged rock, might ruin everything.
Step by step, he moved cautiously forward. He had a good idea of where the woods trail opened, and he made toward it. Once they reached the trail he felt sure they would be safe.
Frank had an idea. He stopped and turned to the others.
"If anything happens," he said, in a low voice, "don't stick together. Scatter and try to make for the boat. Even if only one of us makes it he'll be able to get to the mainland."
The others whispered assent. He turned and proceeded across the rocks.
This safeguard, he felt, was wise. In case the gangsters discovered their escape they would prevent a repetition of the previous occurrence. In the darkness it was entirely probable that at least one, if not more, would be able to evade recapture.
But as he went on, his hopes rose. There was still not a sound from the cave in the rock. The darkness was in heavy silence.
He could faintly discern the black mass of trees and bushes before him. If they could only reach the trail!
But when he eventually came to the undergrowth he found that he had somehow missed the path. The trees were densely massed before him. They would be certain to raise a commotion if they attempted to enter the thicket at that point, he knew. They would be certain of becoming lost as well. They must find the trail.
Every moment was precious. Frank moved to the left but the bushes were still dense in front of him.
Joe moved up beside him.
"I think the trail is farther over," he said quietly.
Frank turned in the direction indicated.
They found the trail at last. Joe and Frank were ahead. Chet and Biff followed. Here they were unable to avoid making some sound. Twigs and branches crackled underfoot. This was unavoidable, but every noise seemed deafening.
Suddenly, from behind them, arose a terrific uproar.
Shouts, yells, the crash of a revolver, heavy footfalls, rent the silence into shreds. The sounds came from the cave.
"They're gone!" roared a voice. "Wake up! They're gone!"
The boys remained stock-still for a moment in the gloom of the trail.
"They'll be after us," said Frank quickly. "Take it easy. Make for the cove. I'll take the lead. Make as little noise as you can."
He started off at a trot, and the others followed. Behind them the uproar increased in volume. They could hear the gangsters shouting to one another; they could hear rocks clattering as their pursuers came running down from the cave.
Their erstwhile captors were rushing directly for the trail. They assumed that the boys would attempt to regain their boat as quickly as possible.
A voice was shouting:
"Head them off at the shore! Don't let them get to their boat!"
The boys increased their speed. There was no attempt at concealment now. They could hear the branches crashing behind them as the gangsters hurried through the thicket.
In the pitch blackness of the grove they stumbled and fell, tripped and reeled as they rushed along.
Chet and Biff, being unused to the trail, were obliged to travel at a slower pace, and in this way they dropped behind. The Hardy boys did not notice. There was such a confusion of sound in the grove, what with the noise of their own flight and the uproar of the pursuit, that they did not know that their chums were straggling.
At a fork in the trail, Frank and Joe headed to the left, the path leading downhill at this point, and toward the cove. They could hear the boom of the surf not far away and they knew that they were nearing their goal.
When Chet and Biff hastened up they failed to notice, in the inky blackness, that the trail branched two ways. Chet was in the lead and his footsteps brought him to the right. He could not hear the footsteps of the Hardy boys ahead but he judged that they were so far in advance that he could not hear them.
Their pursuers had become scattered. Some were pursuing them down the trail. Others were skirting the grove, intending to watch the shore. In the distance they could see occasional flashes of light. Once or twice there was a revolver shot.
"It won't go so well with us if they see us this time," called Frank back to his brother.
"If we can only beat them to the boat we'll be all right," panted Joe.
They emerged from the grove. They could see the white line of the surf ahead and the gray shapes of the rocks along the shore. The cove lay below.
The Hardy boys raced down the rocky slope. Only then did they become aware of the fact that their chums were not following.
Frank stopped and turned.
"Where are Chet and Biff?" he asked, startled.
"I thought they were right behind," replied Joe blankly.
They listened. There were no sounds of running footsteps down the trail. Back in the grove they could hear a frenzied crackling of branches, but whether it was caused by their comrades or by their pursuers they could not tell.
"They must have taken the wrong turning in the dark," declared Frank, as the solution dawned on him. "Quick—we'll get to the boat first! If we can find them we'll bring them with us. If we can't we'll have to make for the mainland alone."
A flash of scarlet light showed against the blackness of the bush as a revolver crashed out, and a scattering of rock close by told them that the bullet had been meant for them. The gangsters were near at hand.
Without another word the Hardy boys turned and dashed down the rocky trail leading to the cove. The path was precipitous and rocky. Joe stumbled once and fell headlong, but he was up again in an instant, spurred on by the fear that they would be recaptured. Frank reached the shore first. The motorboat was just where they had left it, but it was drawn up on the sands.
Joe raced up and the boys placed themselves, one on either side of the bow.
"All right!" gritted Frank. "Ready!"
They shoved desperately at the motorboat, and it began to move slowly out into the water of the cove.
The gangsters were drawing closer. The boys heard heavy footfalls on the rocks at the outskirts of the grove.
Bang! Bang!
The revolver crashed out again. Bullets splashed into the water. Desperately, the Hardy boys struggled with their boat.
At last the keel left the sand, and the boat slid out swiftly into the cove waters. Frank and Joe splashed out into the waves and began to scramble over the side.
Frank had a glimpse of a dark figure racing down the rocky slope toward them. He leaped to the engine.
"Here they are!" roared a voice.
More footsteps came running along the shore. The gangsters were converging toward the cove. Frank worked hastily over the engine. There was a splutter and a roar as the motor responded. The boat began to back slowly out of the cove.
"Keep down," he cautioned his brother.
Joe ducked, and not a moment too soon, for a fusillade of shots suddenly crashed out from the shore. Bullets whistled overhead. Wood splintered as one of them struck the side of the boat. Frank heard a heavy splashing in the water and judged that one of the gangsters was wading out in pursuit.
The boat moved slowly out to the entrance of the cove. In the darkness it was a ticklish performance. Frank doubted if he could make it. At any time it demanded careful steersmanship, and now there was no time for caution. The cove entrance was merely a faint gray blur against the darkness of the rocks on either side. He guided theSleuthtoward it.
Shots crashed and echoed from the shore. A dark form suddenly rose up beside the boat, with revolver upraised, but Joe launched himself on the man with surprising suddenness. His fist shot out and crashed into the gangster's face. With a muffled cry, the fellow stumbled back and lost his balance, going beneath the waves. He rose again in a moment, waist-deep in water, spluttering and choking, but by that time theSleuthwas several yards away and the water was too deep to permit the fellow to wade out any farther. His revolver was useless, and he began to make his way back to shore, growling to himself.
The motorboat reached the cove entrance. The rocks loomed high on either side.
Frank held his breath. At any moment he expected to hear the dread sound of the scraping rocks, but theSleuthglided through the narrow channel without mishap, then shot out to the open sea. He spun the wheel about, brought the boat forward, and a moment later the engine was roaring its staccato defiance to the gangsters in the cove.
Frank looked back. He could see flashlights bobbing up and down on the beach.
"They're going for their own boats!" he exclaimed.
Then, with a grim smile, he bent forward over the wheel. Instead of heading the motorboat out to the open sea, he directed it along the shore, toward the distant cove where the gangsters had hidden their own craft.
Seizing the Boats
"What are you going to do, Frank?" shouted Joe Hardy.
"They're going after their boats. We know the cove they're in, and if we can get there first I'll tow them out to sea. Then they can't follow us!"
Thus Frank briefly outlined his daring scheme to his brother. He knew that the gangsters would not expect any such intention and he knew as well that only by some action of this kind could he avoid danger of capture. If the gangsters followed in their own boats there was every chance that they might overtake or outmaneuver theSleuth. Even if they did not, as long as they retained possession of their own motorboats they could make good their escape. But once marooned on the island, they would be at the mercy of the Hardy boys.
"We'll have to hurry!" said Joe anxiously.
He watched the progress of the flashlights on the shore. TheSleuthwas well ahead, but the seizure of the boats would take some time. The gangsters were making their way slowly over the rocks on their way to the cove.
Frank increased the speed of the boat. It leaped through the waves, the motor roaring. The flashlights on the shore were left far behind.
"We'll make it!" he shouted gleefully to Joe, the spray dashing against his face. He could distinguish the jutting headland that told him the location of the coves.
The men on the shore finally seemed to realize his intention. The boys could now hear frantic shouts as the men called to one another and made desperate efforts to reach the boats. But theSleuthhad outstripped them and they were left stumbling among the rocks along the beach.
The motorboat swept around the headland and into the cove. Frank had switched on the searchlight above the bow, and in its glare he could see the two motorboats belonging to the gang.
It was the work of but a minute to bring theSleuthalongside, for the craft were riding at anchor. Joe seized a length of rope from the stern, then stood in readiness while his brother brought theSleuthclose to the side of the first craft. He leaped lightly into the other motorboat, lashed one end of the rope to the bow, then returned to theSleuthagain, tying the loose end of the rope securely, so that the motorboat could be towed.
Swiftly, Frank brought his boat around to the bow of the remaining craft, where the process was repeated. Joe snubbed one end of a length of stout rope to the bow, the other to the stern of the next boat. The two craft were now ready to be towed away by theSleuth.
There was a sharp clattering of rock from among the bluffs near the cove. Then a shout:
"Red! They're stealing the boats!"
"Head 'em off!" roared another voice frantically from behind. "Don't let them get away!"
But already the engine of theSleuthwas roaring its message of triumph to the pursuers. Slowly, the motorboat began to make its way out of the cove.
And slowly, the ropes tightened. The two motorboats began moving behind. Joe had raised the anchor in each case and the craft were free to follow the lead boat.
There was a yell of dismay from the shore.
"They're starting out! They've got the boats!"
This was followed by a fusillade of shots. The man on the beach opened fire, and his companion farther back among the rocks did likewise. Bullets whistled past theSleuth. But, in the darkness, the men on shore could take but indifferent aim. Frank had switched out the headlight and the gangsters could see only a ghostly gray shadow on the water.
TheSleuthpicked up speed and the two motorboats behind began to rock and sway as they surged forward. Frank knew that he could not go too fast, otherwise the boats that he was towing would run foul of one another or of his own craft and cause disaster. He contented himself by moving ahead at a moderate rate of speed, knowing well that once he cleared the cove he could afford to snap his fingers at the gangsters marooned on the island.
Shouts interspersed with revolver shots told him of their pursuers' wrath. The flashlights danced like fireflies. The full extent of the trick that had been played upon them was just beginning to dawn on the men marooned on the shore.
The headland loomed to the side, then slipped slowly by. The motorboat was throbbing its way out to open water.
"We've beaten 'em," declared Frank exultantly.
"I'll say we have! They'll never get off that island unless they swim."
"From the fuss they're making, they seem to know it, too."
"Where to now?"
"The mainland. If we can get to Rock Harbor we'll get help."
"How about Chet and Biff?" asked Joe soberly.
"We can't afford to take a chance on bringing them off the island just now. I hate to desert them, but we can't do anything else. If we went back for them we'd likely undo everything we've done so far. But I think they'll be safe enough. They'll hide in the bushes. Those fellows have been so busy chasing us that they haven't had any time to worry about them."
"Perhaps they think we all got away."
"If they do they won't be hunting around for Chet and Biff. In any case, we had the agreement that even if only one of us got away he would come back with help for the rest. They'll know we'll be back."
"So will the gangsters. I'll bet they're worrying about how they can clear away from this island before we get back."
Frank headed the boat for the mainland. It was his intention, as he had said, to make his way to Rock Harbor, where they could secure help—officers and men to come back with them to Blacksnake Island to aid in the rescue of their chums and in the capture of the gangsters.
There was the chance, of course, that the latter might have a canoe or a skiff hidden somewhere on the island, but he did not think they would trust themselves to the open water of the channel in any such frail craft. He felt convinced that by seizing the two motorboats they had effectually marooned their enemies.
They passed the last jutting point of the sinister island and the bow of theSleuthwas headed toward the coast.
"Perhaps we won't have to go all the way to Rock Harbor," suggested Joe. "If we could meet a ship we might get help."
"It seems to me I see a light now. Running low on the water. Do you see it?"
Joe peered into the darkness.
"I believe you're right," he said finally. "It seems to be coming this way, too."
"Perhaps some more of the gang."
"I hadn't thought of that. Better not go too close."
Frank eyed the approaching light warily. It was just a faint gleam in the darkness and he judged it was from a motorboat which was most certainly bound toward Blacksnake Island. Eventually he could hear the steady throb of the engine.
After a moment or so he started up excitedly.
"Joe! I'd know that engine anywhere."
"So would I! It's—"
"TheNapoli!"
He spun the wheel about so that theSleuthwould cut across the bows of the approaching craft. Steadily, through the darkness, came the throbbing of the engine, and as the boat came closer the Hardy boys became more and more convinced that it was Tony Prito's craft.
"I've been wondering what became of him," Frank declared. "When he didn't show up earlier I began to think he must have had to call off the trip."
"It may not be him after all, but I'm sure it's his boat. If it isn't I'll never believe my ears again."
The two boats approached one another. Frank shut down the engine of theSleuth, rose from his seat, and shouted:
"Napoli, ahoy!"
Almost immediately the roar of the other engine died to a murmur and a well-known voice replied:
"This is theNapoli. Who are you?"
It was the voice of Tony Prito. Joe gave a yell of delight.
"It's us!" shouted Frank. "The Hardy boys!"
They could hear sounds of excited talking in the other boat, and a suppressed cheer.
"Coming over!" Tony called out, and in a few minutes the two boats had drawn up alongside. In the glare of the headlight Frank and Joe could see Tony Prito, Jerry Gilroy and Phil Cohen.
Their greetings were cut short when the boys saw the two trailing boats and Frank tersely explained the situation.
"You couldn't have come at a better time. We found Chet and Biff on the island. They're still there. We tried to escape, but got separated and only Joe and I got away. Chet and Biff are in hiding somewhere and we stole the other motorboats."
"Whose motorboats?" asked Jerry.
"Chet and Biff were captured by a gang of crooks who mistook them for us. These fellows had a cave on the island and two motorboats of their own. When we made our get-away we towed their boats away with us so the men are all marooned there."
A chorus of excited questions broke forth as the newcomers demanded further details, but Frank went on:
"We're going to the mainland for help. What we want you to do is take charge of these two motorboats and keep cruising around the island to see that the gang doesn't get away."
"Good!" approved Phil. "And if we can pick up Chet and Biff we'll do it."
"If you can, without letting the gang get hold of those boats again."
"Fine!" Tony declared. "We'll take the boats. Throw over that rope."
He caught the rope deftly, and the captured motorboats were soon being towed by theNapoli, leaving the Hardy boys' craft free for its flight to the mainland.
"We'll be back as soon as we can," called out Frank.
"We'll be watching for you."
"Good. No use wasting any more time. Good luck!"
"Good luck!" shouted the others.
Frank bent over the wheel again. The engine of theSleuthroared as the speedy craft turned toward the mainland. TheNapoli, in its turn, began to forge ahead toward Blacksnake Island, its speed somewhat lessened now by the drag of the captured boats. Tony, Jerry and Phil were agog with excitement over this strange encounter in the darkness and the sensational news the Hardy boys had given them.
So the two motorboats went their separate ways in the darkness of the night—one to the mainland, the other toward the sinister island where Chet Morton and Biff Hooper were marooned with the gangsters.
At the Island
In the meantime, what of Chet Morton and Biff Hooper?
When they took the wrong turn in the trail it was some time before they realized that the Hardy boys were not running along before them. They were blundering along through the undergrowth, in complete darkness, trusting to their chums to guide them through, when finally Chet stopped, panting.
"Frank and Joe must be running like deer," he muttered. "I can't hear them at all."
"We were all mighty close together a little while ago," returned Biff.
"I know. And they seem to have disappeared all of a sudden." The thought struck Chet that they might be on the wrong trail. "Do you think we could have taken a wrong turn?"
Biff listened. "There's no one ahead of us, that's sure," he said at last. "We must have got separated."
As this conviction forced itself upon them, the two lads were overwhelmed with disappointment. They knew that the Hardy boys would have little enough time to gain the boat and escape without waiting for them, and at the thought that they might be again left on the island at the mercy of their captors they were profoundly discouraged.
"We're up against it again, I guess," declared Chet. "Well, I think we'd better follow this trail anyway, wherever it leads to. Remember what Frank said—that if even one of us reached the boat safely he could get to the mainland and bring back help for the rest."
"Yes, that's right. It isn't as bad as it might be."
"I only hope the gang don't capture them before they make the boat safely. Listen!"
They stopped in their tracks and listened as the night wind bore to their ears the sound of gunfire from the beach. It was far over to one side of them. They could hear distant shouts, then the spasmodic firing of revolvers followed again.
"They must be having a sweet time. I guess the gang are trying to keep them from getting the boat," said Chet.
Then they heard the muffled roar of the motorboat in the cove.
"They're getting away!" declared Biff, in excitement. "You can hear the boat backing out."
More revolver shots—more shouts—the roar of theSleuth'sengine continued.
"As long as they get away safely I'm not worrying much," Chet said. "Just the same, I'd rather be with them. But they'll bring back help."
"In the meantime, the best thing we can do is to hide."
"The gang will be scouring the island for us now that they know we didn't get away with the others. And they won't be any too gentle with us either, if they get us."
Chet and Biff decided that it would be best to get as near the shore as possible before concealing themselves, so as to be ready for a rush to safety should the Hardy boys return with the promised assistance. By the sound of the motorboat and the shooting, they judged that the narrow trail led toward the shore, so they followed it as well as they could in the darkness. The wet branches slashed their faces and they stumbled over roots and slipped in the wet, deep grass, but gradually the sound of the breaking surf drew closer and they knew they were coming nearer to the beach.
The path suddenly dipped and they descended a slope, finally emerging from the trees to find themselves on a rocky hillside overlooking the gray shore. They could see the white foam of the breaking rollers, and the gray rocks below but there was no sign of motorboat or of any human being.
"We may as well stay right on this hillside, behind the rocks," Chet suggested. "If we go roaming about the shore we're likely to run into Red and his gang."
"Perhaps they've taken their own boats and gone after the Hardy boys."
"They may have. But we can't take a chance on it. If any of them are prowling around it would be just our luck to meet them."
The chums made themselves as comfortable as possible in the shelter of a huge rock, from which they had a good view of the shore and the sea beyond. It was still dark and they had little hope of rescue before morning.
"It'll take them quite a while to get to the mainland and rouse any one to come out here to help us," remarked Chet. "The big thing is for us to keep hidden until daylight and then lay low until we see a chance of rescue."
"You can trust me to lay low. I've no hankering to be dragged back to that cave again."
"Me neither."
The boys lapsed into silence. They realized that conversation was dangerous. At any moment some member of the gang might be venturing near and might hear their voices.
From a distant side of the island they suddenly heard more shots. They broke out in a perfect fusillade of gunfire, and the rocks flung back the echoes, mingled with yells of rage. At the same time, they again heard the sound of theSleuth'sengine, slower this time, as though the craft were but crawling along.
"I can't understand this," said Chet. "We heard them leave the cove a little while ago. Now they're away down the shore and going slow."
"Perhaps they're having engine trouble," said Biff mournfully.
"I can't figure it out at all. It's tough to be sitting here in the dark, not knowing whether they've got away or not."
"I don't dare let myself think they haven't got away," declared Biff, with determination.
An hour passed. The sounds of the motorboat had long since died away. Once in a while the chums heard voices back in the grove and they knew that at least some of the gangsters had been left on the island. Whether the others had left in pursuit of the Hardy boys, they could not tell. Had they known of the Hardys'coupin taking the gangsters' two boats they would have felt more relieved in mind. The chill of approaching morning had settled over the island, and they huddled together in the shelter of the rock, seeking warmth.
Suddenly, from the sea, they heard the steady chug-chug of a motorboat that seemed to be progressing slowly along in close proximity to the shore. They looked out and they could see a headlight slowly moving through the darkness.
"It's a motorboat, but it's traveling very slowly," said Chet.
"Let's take a chance and hail them."
"It might be some of the gang."
"That's right. But we can go down closer to the shore and see. It may be Frank and Joe looking for us."
The two lads left the shelter of the rocks and began moving cautiously toward the beach. They realized that there was every chance that the mysterious craft might be one of the gangsters' boats and that they would be risking recapture by making their presence known. But, on the other hand, it might be the Hardy boys returning in an effort to pick them up.
They had gone no more than a few yards when a loud voice only a short distance away made them jump with surprise:
"Is that one of our boats, Pete?"
"No. I don't know it at all. There's something funny about this."
A rock clattered down the slope. Chet looked back. Two dark figures appeared in sight at the top of the declivity.
The two parties saw one another at the same time.
"Here they are!" roared one of the men, and he plunged down the slope straight at the astonished boys.
The other man came running after him. The first impulse of the two chums was to run, but they saw that flight would be useless. They were midway on the hillside leading to the beach and the path was treacherous with rocks and loose gravel. They would be overtaken in a moment.
"Fight 'em!" said Chet, gritting his teeth.
The boys stood their ground. The two gangsters, one of whom they recognized as Pete, came floundering down the slope. They had started out in such a rush that now they were not well able to stop, and as the pair came at them the two chums braced themselves for the shock.
Biff met the first man squarely. His passion for boxing now stood him in good stead. He judged his distance perfectly. As the fellow came at him, arms swinging, he drove a straight left to the fellow's midriff.
The gangster gasped and doubled up with pain. He wavered for a moment, then Biff swung. His right fist crashed against the man's jaw, and the gangster toppled over on his face. He rolled over in the gravel a few times, then came to a stop, sprawled senseless on the hillside.
As for Chet, he made use of strategy. When the second man rushed at him he sidestepped neatly.
His right foot went out. The gangster tripped over it and, so great had been the force of his rush and so sudden was his downfall, that he went ploughing forward on his face for several yards until he came to a ledge of rock. He made frantic efforts to save himself as he felt that he was going over the side, but his descent could not be checked. Chet had a glimpse of desperately waving arms and kicking legs; then his adversary disappeared with a crash. The ledge was only a few feet from the beach, but it was certain that the fall would knock the breath out of the gangster's body for several minutes at least.
Without another word the boys scrambled back up the hillside. They knew that the gangsters would recover quickly and that the alarm would soon be sounded. They must hide, and that quickly.
They gained the shelter of the bushes just as the gangster who had gone tumbling over the ledge began to find his breath again and shout for help. Desperately, the boys scrambled through the undergrowth, seeking no path, seeking only a hiding place.
At length, when they were in a dense thicket where the branches were so closely entwined that further progress seemed impossible, they halted.
"This is as far as we can go," panted Chet. "They'll be searching for us now, but they'll never find us in here."
"That was a narrow escape!"
"It sure was. But we gave them something to remember us by."
Biff Hooper doubled up his fist with satisfaction.
"I knocked my man colder than a sardine," he declared.
It was nearing dawn. The first faint streaks of light were appearing in the eastern sky.
"I wonder where that boat went," said Chet suddenly. "Perhaps it's still near the island."
"It wasn't one of the boats belonging to the gang, anyway, by the way those two fellows were talking. If we could get a hiding place a little nearer the shore we might be able to see it."
"Yes—let's get out of this thicket."
Quietly, the boys began to withdraw from the deep thicket in which they had become entangled. But the branches cracked underfoot and seemed to have the brittleness of matchwood. The chums were afraid they would be heard.
"Better stay where we are," muttered Chet.
They remained motionless for some time, and the swift dawn soon began to paint the sky. The darkness diminished and the boys could now see one another plainly, and could see the extent of the deep thicket in which they had become enmeshed.
"Now let's try to get out," said Chet.
Again they attempted to make their way out of the thicket, and this time, because they could see what they were doing, their efforts met with more success. But they could not avoid making considerable noise, and the crackling of branches seemed like the reports of rifles.
Then, to their horror, they heard a voice:
"I heard a noise in the bushes over there almost an hour ago, and now I hear it again."
"We'll go over and see," replied another voice.
The boys looked at one another, then froze into silence. They could hear heavy footfalls near by. Branches crackled.
"They're hiding around on this side of the island somewhere," said the first voice. "If I ever lay my hands on 'em—"
Chet put his finger to his lips as a warning to silence, but there was no need. Biff was scarcely daring to breathe.
Just at that moment a sound broke forth that sent a thrill of fear through them both.
It was a sibilant, terrifying hiss, right at their feet.
Chet looked down and gave a low cry. A huge blacksnake was coiled in the grass, in readiness to strike.
The Chase
Chet Morton leaped back with such violence that he collided with his chum. He had seen the serpent in the nick of time, and his backward leap had been so instinctive and so involuntary that he somehow evaded the swift, whiplike thrust of the evil head that plunged at him.
The snake missed, although its body writhed against Chet's boot for a second and the fangs stabbed against the heavy leather. The boot saved the boy. Had the snake struck against his leg he would have been bitten.
The chums plunged blindly through the thicket.
There was no thought of caution now. They were filled with unreasoning terror of the blacksnake, the instinctive revulsion that fills most people at the sight of such a reptile, and they went crashing through the bushes. The noise of their flight did not escape the two rascals who had been searching for them.
"I see them!" shouted one of the men. He came plunging through the deep grass at the outskirts of the thicket to intercept the boys.
Chet saw him in time and veered to one side. He just managed to evade the outflung arm, then went running desperately to the top of the hillside overlooking the sea. Biff came thundering behind, outdistanced the second gangster, dodged the other man, and raced after Chet.
They went slipping and sliding down the slope. Chet had no clear idea of where they were bound, but he was determined to keep running either until he was captured or overcome with exhaustion.
But when he came over the brow of the hill and began the steep descent, he saw something in the sea below that made him give an exultant yell.
It was a motorboat, and one that he recognized immediately. The boat was none other than theNapoli, and in it were three figures. Even at that distance he knew them for Tony Prito, Phil Cohen and Jerry Gilroy. Behind the motorboat were two other craft, being towed.
He had not been seen as yet, for he saw that theNapoliwas cruising leisurely around the island. He shouted hoarsely to attract attention.
He saw Tony look up, then speak excitedly to his comrades. They waved frantically in reply. Then the bow of theNapolibegan to head in toward the shore.
Could they reach the boat in safety? Biff was thundering down the slope only a few feet behind Chet. Rocks and pebbles went bouncing and bounding along in front of them; sand and gravel flew from about their boots. And, coming in swift pursuit, were the two gangsters who had so nearly captured them in the thicket. These men were shouting hoarsely to them to stop.
But the two chums had no intention of stopping. They saw safety in sight. Could they reach the shore and gain the boat before the two gangsters overtook them?
Then, out from among the rocks along the beach emerged three figures. Chet's heart sank. They were the other gangsters and they were directly in the path. At the same time, he saw that Tony Prito was bringing theNapoliaround, and away from the shore.
Spent and exhausted, he tried to dodge the three men ahead, but the effort was short-lived. One of the three leaped forward and grappled with him. They fell struggling into the sand. The other two leaped at Biff.
The boys fought bravely and desperately. Chet struck out and his fist crashed into the face of the man who had tackled him. The fellow sagged back for a second and Chet tried to free himself from the grasp around his waist, but as he did so one of the other two gangsters came rushing up and launched himself on him.
Biff battled with equal ferocity, but he was powerless against the three rascals. He kicked and struggled, but they had him down and they dragged him back behind the rocks, where the others soon brought Chet.
The red-headed man, with a bruise over one eye, produced a length of stout cord from his hip pocket.
"Tie 'em up!" he snapped. "We've got 'em this time for keeps."
Pete grabbed the cord, and in a few minutes Chet's wrists were bound tightly behind his back and his ankles were securely tied. Pete cut the cord and used the remainder for binding Biff. The two chums were helpless.
As for Tony Prito, in theNapoli, he had quickly seen that it would be impossible, even foolhardy, to attempt to rescue his two chums. In the first place, there were five boys against five men, the latter desperate and fully armed. The only result would be the capture of them all and the capture, as well, of the three motorboats by the gangsters.
"I hate to see them caught with us so close, but what can we do?" he said, turning to the others, as he slowly brought theNapoliaround.
"If the men catch us and the motorboats, the boys will only be worse off than they were before."
"I guess you're right," agreed Jerry Gilroy. "I sure thought for a minute that we were going to be able to save them. Between the crowd of us we could have held off those other two toughs long enough to get Chet and Biff on board, but when the others showed up I knew it was all off."
"The fellows put up a good fight, anyway," declared Phil Cohen. "I hope those villains don't treat 'em too rough."
"We'll get them free yet," asserted Tony. "I don't know how it's going to be done, but we'll get 'em free. We've still got all the motorboats and the gang can't leave the island, that's sure."
When he had brought theNapoliout a safe distance from shore, Tony decided to drop anchor.
"We'll stick around," he decided. "They'll know that we aren't going to desert them anyway."
So theNapoli, with the two captured motorboats drifting behind, remained at anchor, while the three chums scanned the rocky shore. Once in a while they saw one or another of the gangsters emerging from behind the boulders to gaze at them, then return.
"We've got them guessing," chuckled Tony. "They don't know what to make of us. They know we have their boats, but they don't know who we are or how we got 'em."
Two hours passed. The sun rose higher in the sky. Blacksnake Island, in all its sinister ugliness, simmered in the morning heat. There was no further sign of life from the shore. Although the boys in the motorboat did not know it, the boulders behind which Chet and Biff had been carried hid the trail up to the grove and thence to the cave in the rocks. The gangsters had decided to return to this cave and Chet and Biff, with their ankle bonds untied, had been roughly ordered to their feet and bade proceed with the gangsters up the hidden trail. They had not been seen from the boat because a heavy veil of overhanging branches from the trees masked the trail where it wound up the hillside.
Toward mid-morning Tony chanced to look up and gaze out toward the mainland. He leaped up with a frantic yell.
"Here they come!" he shrieked. "Here they are!"
The others rose and stared. Then, as the meaning of what they saw dawned on them, they cheered hoarsely, and danced with delight until the motorboat rocked and swayed beneath their feet.
Cleaving the waves, came a low, rakish craft, speeding along with white wings of foam at her prow. It rushed silently toward them with the grace of an arrow. It was a United States revenue cutter, and when the boys in the boat witnessed its approach they knew that the Hardy boys had been successful in obtaining the aid they had gone to seek.
The boys cheered and waved their arms, trying to signal to the cutter that they had located Chet and Biff. Finally, Tony started up the engine and brought theNapolialongside. The cutter slowly came to a stop, there was a clank and a clatter as the anchor was sent over.
A husky revenue officer with a revolver strapped to his waist leaned over the side and hailed them.
"Did you find them?" he roared.
"They were caught again, right on this shore!" shouted Tony. "The gang are still here."
"Fine! We'll be right over. Tie your craft alongside and come along in our boat!"
The lads needed no second urging. A ladder was flung over the side and, after securely tying theNapoli, they clambered up on the deck of the cutter where they found the Hardy boys awaiting them.
In a few swift words Tony acquainted them with the circumstances surrounding the recapture of Chet and Biff. The revenue officer who had first hailed them nodded with satisfaction.
"As long as we know that those rascals haven't left the island, it's all right," he declared. "We'll have them in hand before long."
He turned and gave a curt order to one of his men and in a remarkably short space of time there were a dozen broad-shouldered chaps in readiness, with rifles and revolvers. Another order, and a boat was lowered over the side.
"Away we go!" announced the officer. "It won't be long now."
Home Again
Tony Prito and his chums guided the landing party to the boulders behind which the gangsters and their captives had disappeared, but when Frank Hardy saw that the prey had flown he assumed the rôle of guide.
"They've gone up to the cave," he said. "I know the way."
With Joe, he went in advance of the party. Tony, Phil and Jerry came behind, with the officer and his men, their faces alight with anticipation of a battle, clambering up the hillside in their wake. The sturdy, tanned men were alert and ready for the approaching fight.
Through the grove, down the leafy trail, the Hardy boys led them, and at last they came within sight of the clearing. The great rock and the dark entrance of the cave were in sight. There was no sign of any human being.
"Deploy!" ordered the officer.
The men scattered. The Hardy boys and their chums, being unarmed, were obliged to watch from the shelter of the grove, because they realized that there would probably be gunfire.
The men began to make their way across the open space, running from rock to rock, keeping well scattered, all eying the entrance to the cave.
Suddenly, a shot sounded from the cave entrance. Almost simultaneously one of the revenue men fired. The boys had seen no one in the cave but the keen eyes of the rifleman had, and when the body of a man slumped forward out of the cave, falling on the rocks, with a revolver clattering from his nerveless fingers, his judgment was verified.
And this, to the disappointment of the watchers, was the end of the fight. For the gangsters, like so many of their kind, were cowardly and they became unnerved at the fate of the first of their men who had shown fight.
Out of the cave entrance came a man bearing aloft a white handkerchief in token of surrender. He was followed by the others, with hands upraised, and behind them came Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, their wrists still bound, but their faces alight with joy, in contrast to the surly visages of the gangsters.
"Well, well!" declared the officer in charge, as he confronted the rascals, noting the frowning red-haired man. "If it isn't Red Hawkins and his gang! And you too, Pete! We've been looking for your hangout for the past three months—and for you as well. Put the cuffs on 'em, boys."
In a few moments the gang were securely handcuffed. The man who had been shot was attended to and it was found that he had been wounded, but after a brief examination and the rendering of first aid, the officer assured the victim that he would live to face trial with the rest for the abduction of Chet and Biff.
"And if that charge falls through—which it won't," he assured them all, "we have a list of other charges against you, as long as your arm."
But the Hardy boys and their chums were oblivious to this scene. They were too busy staging an impromptu reunion. Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, freed of their bonds, were busy shaking hands all round and trying to explain to their excited comrades some of the adventures they had gone through since leaving Bayport.
Then the Hardy boys were called on to explain how they had encountered the revenue cutter and how they had told their story and prevailed on the revenue men to come with them to Blacksnake Island to effect the rescue of their chums.
"But we can talk it over better on the way back," declared Frank.
"Coming back with us?" asked the officer. "We're taking these men to Rock Harbor, but you're welcome to come along."
"No thanks—we'll be going back in the motorboats."
"I see. Well, we'll take this gang back to the ship. Forward—march, you!" he shouted to the crestfallen gangsters.
So the party returned to the shore and Red Hawkins and his four men were herded into the boat. They had not said a word, but on their way back to the cutter Red turned to the Hardy boys and snarled:
"Well, you've got me, but our men in the West got your father. We've got that much satisfaction, anyway!"
With that he lapsed into silence, realizing that his words had the immediate effect of dampening the spirits of the Hardy boys and their chums.
Back at the revenue cutter, Frank and Joe said good-bye to the officer and his men, leaving Red and his gang in their charge. The motorboat had been towed behind the ship and they resumed their places in theSleuthand cast away.
Tony Prito and the others took their places in theNapoliwhile Chet and Biff returned to theEnvoy. One of the captured boats turned out to be none other than Biff's own craft, which the gangsters had been using while they were prisoners in the cave. Thus the journey home began.
Although there was rejoicing in the other boats and much good-natured badinage was passed about, the Hardy boys found it difficult to be cheerful. Red's words had brought back to them their fears concerning the safety of their father and they dreaded the news that might await them when they returned to Bayport.
"If there is no news from him, I think we should go to Chicago and search for him," said Frank gravely.
"I'm with you in that. But perhaps it won't be so bad. Red may have been only trying to frighten us."
"I hope so. If that was his object he sure succeeded."
"At any rate, we found the missing chums."
"Another feather in our cap, eh?" grinned Frank. "If dad does come back safely he won't have any reason to be ashamed of his sons."
"The Mortons and the Hoopers will be glad. The whole city will be in a fuss over what happened to Chet and Biff."
This proved to be the case. When the three motorboats returned to Barmet Bay and finally docked at Bayport they found a cheering throng awaiting them, for the news had been sent to the city by the revenue men from Rock Harbor, and the anxieties of the boys' families were set at rest. The Hoopers and Mortons, in particular, had been almost frantic with worry and Chet and Biff were given a welcome befitting heroes of an expedition given up for lost for many years.
Nor were the Hardy boys and their chums forgotten in the welcome. Chet and Biff gave full credit to the Hardys for the part they had played in the round-up of the gangsters. When Frank and Joe were finally able to break away from the crowd and make their way back home, the news of the exploit was beginning to spread rapidly through the city.
When they came within sight of the familiar house they broke into a run. They raced up the front steps. They flung open the front door and burst into the hallway, almost knocking over Aunt Gertrude, who was dusting.
"Lands sakes!" she exclaimed. "Can't you boys ever learn to come into a house properly? I never seen the like in all my born days! Go right back out that door and come in again like gentlemen!"
"Home again!" exclaimed Frank, with a grin. Then he turned anxiously to his aunt. "Any word yet from dad?"
"He's in the library!" sniffed Aunt Gertrude.
"In the library!" exclaimed the boys, in astonishment.
"Yes, in the library. And what of it? Where did you expect he'd be? Up in the attic?"
But the Hardy boys did not wait to reply. With a whoop of delight they rushed through the living room and into the library, where they found Fenton Hardy seated at the table. Their father got up quickly as they rushed at him, and in a moment all three were shaking hands and chattering in gladness and relief.
"We heard you'd been caught by the gang!" gasped Frank.
Fenton Hardy smiled. "It was the other way around," he corrected them. "The gang was caught by me."
"And we caught the rest of them!"
"Not Red Hawkins and his crew?"
The Hardy boys nodded. Their father gazed at them in incredulous astonishment for a moment. Then he slapped them heartily on the back and indicated the chairs near by.
"And I thought they'd clear out when they knew Baldy and the others were behind the bars! Why, this rounds up the entire pack! Tell me about it. But—first of all, have Chet and Biff been found?"
The boys nodded.
"We found them on Blacksnake Island. That's how we rounded up the gang. They captured Chet and Biff in mistake for us. They had 'em in a cave."
Then, in the seclusion of the study, the Hardy boys told of their search for the missing chums, of their deduction that the boys might have gone to Blacksnake Island, of their arrival on the island and the finding of the gangsters and their cave.
Fenton Hardy listened to the recital with sparkling eyes, for he realized that his sons had played a part that made him proud of them, and when the tale was finished his approval was evident by the manner in which he pounded the desk with his fist.
"Fine!" he declared. "It was real detective work in the first place and real grit and courage from then on. I'm very proud of my boys."
"But all the time," added Frank, "we were worried about you. The men said you had been captured in the West."
"It was a false report," said their father. "They thought they had captured me, but it wasn't for long. I played into their hands once, just to find out where they were all hiding. But I had another detective to shadow me and when I found out where the gang were gathered I gave the signal and we rounded them up."
"And now I hope the whole kit and bilin' of you will stay at home for a while!" declared a voice from the doorway. "I declare I never did see such a family for the men-folks to go gallivantin' around the country and never stayin' at home. It's a wonder to me, Laura, that you put up with it."
"Well," smilingly replied Mrs. Hardy, who had entered the room with Aunt Gertrude, "with three first-rate detectives in the family, I'm afraid I can't expect anything else. And they always come home again."
Aunt Gertrude sniffed.
"I'll guarantee that if I visit here much longer I'll see that those two boys haven't much chance for more detectiving!" she announced. "I'll cure 'em, so I will. It's no business at all for boys."
Mrs. Hardy smiled serenely.
Fenton Hardy winked gravely at his sons, so Aunt Gertrude's threat did not greatly disturb them.
There were to be more exciting adventures in store for the Hardy boys, and what some of these were will be related in the next volume of this series, entitled "The Hardy Boys: Hunting for Hidden Gold," a strenuous story of the West.
"You're welcome to try, Aunt Gertrude," said Mr. Hardy; "but I'm afraid you'll never cure my sons of wanting to be detectives. I've set them the example, you see."
"More's the pity," sniffed Aunt Gertrude. "Why couldn't you have been a plumber? It's safer."
"But not as exciting," said Fenton Hardy, with a laugh.
THE END
MYSTERY STORIES FOR BOYS
By FRANKLIN W. DIXON
THE HARDY BOYS: THE TOWER TREASURETHE HARDY BOYS: THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFFTHE HARDY BOYS: THE SECRET OF THE OLD MILLTHE HARDY BOYS: THE MISSING CHUMSTHE HARDY BOYS: HUNTING FOR HIDDEN GOLD
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK