The Secret Of The Caves Part 7

"Lights mostly and shootin'."

"Haven't any people been seen?"

"Not a livin' soul."

"That's strange," Chet said.

"Strange ain't the word for it," declared the fisherman. "It's downright spooky, like ghosts or somethin'."

"Have you been down to the caves yourself, Mr. Donachie?" Frank asked.

"Just call me Johnny." The fisherman said that a few days before, his boat was washed ash.o.r.e there in a squall. "When I got back in the sea again," he went on, "I saw a couple o' lights down near the caves.

Next I heard two or three shots and then a yell."

"A yell?" Frank asked.

"The most awful screechin' I ever heard," the fisherman said.

"Well, that proves somebody's there," Biff remarked.

Despite the Donachies' warnings, the boys were determined to set out.

"Can you show us the quickest route?" Joe asked.

With a resigned look, the fisherman led the boys a short distance along the beach and pointed to the path leading up the hill. "You'll have to follow that to the top of the cliffs. From there look for a deep ravine.

That'll take you down to the caves."

The campers thanked the couple, and with knapsacks and blanket rolls over their shoulders, began the ascent. The hill was steeper than it looked and it was more than an hour before the boys reached the summit.

Here a magnificent view awaited them. Far below lay the fisherman's cottage like a toy house. The ocean was a flat blue floor.

Venturing close to the edge of the cliff, Joe peered over. He saw a sheer wall of rock with a few scrubby outcroppings of gnarled bushes.

"No wonder the caves can't be reached by skirting the sh.o.r.e," Joe said. "The only way along the base of the cliff is by boat."

Chet looked up at the sky. "Come on, fellows," he said. "We can't afford to lose any time. We're in for a storm." The breeze bore to their ears the rumble of distant thunder.

"Chet's right," Joe said. "These squalls come up suddenly. Let's move!"

Without further ado, the boys hastened along the faint trail that led among the rocks. They could see no sign of the ravine, but judged that it would be almost invisible until they came upon it.

A few raindrops. .h.i.t the faces of the boys as they plodded on. Flashes of lightning zigzagged across the darkening sky, followed by a terrific thunderclap. Then rain started falling heavily.

The wind rose, and far below, the surf boomed and crashed against the base of the cliff. The foursome stumbled on, scarcely able to follow the path in the gloom. The wind howled, lightning flashed, and thunder crashed constantly.

With Frank in the lead, the boys plunged forward into the streaming wall of rain. Chet and Biff were next and Joe brought up the rear. On and on they went, heads bent to the storm. Would they ever find the ravine?

Suddenly Frank came to a stop and looked behind. "Where's Joe?" he shouted above the clamor of the gale. The others looked about. Joe had vanished!

CHAPTER IX.

The Cavern "WHERE on earth did Joe disappear to?" exclaimed Biff.

He, Frank, and Chet peered through the teeming rain, but the gloom was so intense that it was impossible to see more than a few yards away.

"We'll have to go back," Frank decided quickly. "Joe probably sat down to rest and got lost when he tried to catch up with us."

The trio retraced their steps over the rocks, keeping close together. They shouted again and again, but in the roar of the storm they knew there was little chance that Joe would hear them.

"Perhaps he fell down and hurt himself," Biff suggested. "He may be lying behind one of these big rocks where we can't see him."

"Maybe he fell over the cliff!" said Chet, voicing the thought for all of them. For a heartsick moment the boys just stood there, faces pale and streaming with rain. Suddenly, above the roar of the storm, they heard a faint cry.

"Listen!" Frank exclaimed.

Breathlessly, they waited.

Again came the cry. "Help! Help!"

The three boys ran to the edge of the cliff, stopped, and peered down. Over to one side, about four feet below, they spied a dark figure.

It was Joe, clinging to a small bush growing out of the sheer cliffside. "Hurry!" he called in a strained voice.

"Hang on! We'll get you!" Frank shouted. But his heart sank when he saw that Joe was beyond his reach.

"There's only one thing to do," he said to Biff and Chet "You two hang on to me while I lower myself over."

"You'll never make it," Biff protested as Frank shrugged off the gear he was carrying. "You'll both be killed."

"It's the only chance, and I'm going to take it!" Frank flung himself down and began to edge forward until he was leaning far over the edge. Biff and Chet seized his ankles and braced themselves.

Bit by bit, Frank lowered himself headfirst. He dared not look down, for he was hanging at a dizzy height. "A little more!" he called out.

He swung lower, gripped Joe's wrists, and secured a tight hold. "Ready, Joe?"

"Okay," was the hoa.r.s.e reply.

"Haul away!"

Chet and Biff began dragging Frank back. There was a double weight now, but the Hardys' staunch friends were equal to it!

Inch by inch the boys were hauled nearer safety. It seemed ages to Frank before he was over the top again.

At that moment, with his brother just below the rim of the cliff, Frank felt Joe's wrists slipping from his grasp.

But Chet and Biff scrambled forward and seized Joe's s.h.i.+rt. Together the three pulled him over the edge onto the rocky ground.

For a moment the boys were too exhausted to say a word.

"Boy, that was a narrow squeak!" Chet said solemnly.

"We'll stick closer together after this. How did it happen, Joe?" Frank asked.

"I stopped to tie my bootlace. When I looked up again I couldn't see you at all, so I began to run. I didn't realize I was so near the edge of the cliff. Then some of the rock must have broken off under my feet, because everything gave way and I felt myself falling."

When Frank and Joe had recovered from their grueling experience, they got to their feet and the adventurers resumed their journey over the rocks. This time no one lagged behind and all stayed well away from the edge of the cliff.

In a short time Frank gave a cry of relief. "The ravine!" he yelled.

Through the pouring rain, just a few yards ahead, the others discerned a deep cut in the rocks, and they all scrambled down into it.

Far below, they could dimly see the beach and the breaking rollers. Slipping and stumbling, the Bayporters made their way down the steep, winding ravine.

Joe was first to reach bottom.

"A cave!" He pointed right toward the base of the cliff. There, but a short distance from the breaking waves, was a dark hole in the steep wall of rock.

Frank took a flashlight from his pack and led the way into the dark mouth of the cavern. In its gleam he saw that their shelter was no mere niche in the face of the cliff, but a cave that led to unknown depths.

"Looks as if we can start exploring right here and now," he said.

"Explore my neck!" grumbled Chet. "Let's build a fire. I'm wet clear through!"

"What do we do for firewood?" practical Biff inquired.

This had not occurred to the others. They glanced at one another in dismay.

"That's right," Joe said. "There's not much wood around and it's soaked by now, anyway."

Frank moved farther back into the dark cave with his flashlight. Suddenly he exclaimed in mingled astonishment and delight. "Well! Can you beat this, fellows?"

"What?" called Joe.

"Firewood!"

"Where?"

The others came hastening over to Frank.

"Look!" He cast the flashlight beam against the cave wall to his left.

In the center of the circle of radiance, they saw a neat pile of wood.

Joe whistled in surprise. "That didn't get here by accident-someone stacked it."

Frank stepped over and picked up one of the sticks. "Good dry driftwood. We'll have a swell fire now."

"I wonder who piled it in here," Biff remarked.

Chet shrugged. "Why worry about that?"

"Probably the mystery men who are doing all the yelling and shooting," Biff said. "We'll be in for it if this is their cave we've stumbled on."

He, Chet, and Joe began carrying wood over to the center of the cave. Frank, meanwhile, set down the flashlight, took out his pocketknife, and whittled a particularly dry stick until he had a small heap of shavings. Over these he built a pyramid of driftwood. Then he took a match from his waterproof case and ignited the shavings. They flared up brightly. Anxiously the boys watched the small blaze.

Frank had been afraid that lack of a draft might cause so much smoke that they would be almost suffocated. To his relief, the smoke spiraled upward and was carried off. "Must be an opening in the roof," Frank observed.

Soon the fire was burning briskly. As its warmth penetrated the cave, the boys took off their drenched clothes and spread them about the blaze, then wrapped themselves in the heavy blankets they had brought with them.

The rest of the afternoon the rain continued unabated. The clothes dried slowly. Once Biff went to the cave mouth and looked out at the wind-lashed sea.

"Do you think the water comes in here at high tide?" he asked.

"No," Frank replied. "The cave floor was dry when we came."

At dusk Chet produced the frying pan, and the fragrant odor of sizzling bacon soon permeated their refuge. The boys never enjoyed a meal more than their supper in the cave. The driftwood blazed and crackled, casting a cheerful glow which illuminated the rocky ceiling and walls of the underground chamber. With crisp bacon, bread toasted brown before the fire, hot chocolate, and jam, they ate ravenously, and at last sat back with deep sighs of sheer content.

Although part of the floor of the cave was rocky, much of it was sand, which provided a fairly comfortable resting place. The boys were tired after their long journey, so they stretched out in their blankets and were soon drowsily chatting, while the fire died lower and lower. At last it was only a glow in the dark and the voices ceased.

An hour pa.s.sed. Two hours.

Suddenly Joe was awakened. He was just about to turn over and go to sleep again, wondering vaguely what had aroused him, when he heard a footstep close by.

He raised himself on one elbow and peered into the gloom, but could see nothing.

When he heard a rustle, he spoke up. "Is that you, Frank?" The words rang out clearly in the deep silence.

Instead of the rea.s.suring voice of his brother, Joe heard a m.u.f.fled exclamation and scurrying footsteps.

Someone was running across the floor of the cave!

CHAPTER X.

A Terrifying Loss "WHO'S that?" demanded Joe, scrambling to his feet.