The boys hastened down the far passage. They hurried past their roadster, on through the tunnel. At last they saw a gleam of light ahead, shining faintly in the distance.
XXI
At the Farmhouse
In a few moments, the Hardy boys had emerged from the passage and stood in a heavy clump of bushes that obscured the entrance to the tunnel in the bluff. Brushing aside the trees, they stepped out onto the beach.
The light they had seen was from a ship, steaming into Bayport Harbor, and in the distance they could see a dim yellow haze—the lights of the city.
Above them towered the rocky bluff. Farther down the beach they saw the break in the cliffs where the gully ran back toward the Shore Road.
“We can’t go that way,” Frank decided quickly. “The thieves are up in the gully helping get that car out of the mud.”
Joe looked up at the steep cliff.
“We certainly can’t climb up here.”
“We can go out the way we came in. The roadster came down the beach, you remember. We may find the trail back.”
The storm had spent its force and a fine drizzle of rain was now falling. The boys went back down the beach, the flashlight illuminating the way.
By the smoothness of the beach they knew that this was the route the car had followed on the way in. Later on they came to an open stretch of sand. Beyond that lay rocks.
There was a break in the cliff, and by the flashlight, the boys picked out an automobile track in a patch of sand, leading toward low bushes that masked the entrance to a gully.
“This is the place we’re looking for,” said Frank. “I’ll bet the roadster came down through here.”
He pushed aside the wet bushes. In the damp grass, the track was still plainly visible. The gully was dank with undergrowth, but there were evidences of a wide trail.
“We’re getting there, anyway. From the direction, this ought to take us up to the Shore Road.”
“What shall we do then?” asked Joe. “Walk to Bayport?”
“We shouldn’t have to. There are farms along the road. We ought to be able to telephone to town.”
“To the police?”
“Sure! Police and state troopers. We can’t round up this gang by ourselves, and we haven’t any too much time to get help, as it is.”
“Well, we at least know where they can trace the stolen cars. That’s one consolation.”
“You mean Clancy?”
“In Atlantic City. The police ought to be able to catch him without any trouble.”
The boys struggled on up the gully, along the trail that led through the wet woods toward the Shore Road. The underbrush had been cleared away for the passage of the stolen cars, and they found no difficulty following this strange road.
Finally, Frank gave a cry of delight.
“We’re at the road!”
He emerged from the bushes, raced across a grassy stretch, and scrambled up onto the highway. It was, indeed, the Shore Road at last.
The boys looked about them. Some distance away they saw a gleam of light.
“A farmhouse! We’ll try it.”
They hurried down the road, and at length the flashlight revealed the entrance to a lane. Splashing through the water-filled ruts, the boys made their way between the crooked fences toward the dim mass of farm buildings.
“This place seems sort of familiar,” remarked Joe.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“I know now! It’s the Dodd farm!”
Joe was right. When the boys entered the barnyard, in spite of the fact that darkness obscured their surroundings, they knew from the size and position of the buildings that they had reached the Dodd place.
“This makes it easier. They have a telephone,” said Frank.
“And that light in the window shows that someone is up.”
They hurried to the door of the farmhouse and knocked. In a little while the door was flung open and Jack Dodd confronted them.
“Who’s there?” he asked, peering out into the darkness. Then he exclaimed with astonishment: “The Hardy boys! What on earth are you doing here at this hour? Come in!”
Frank and Joe entered. They were wet and bedraggled, and Jack Dodd looked at them curiously.
“I was working late at my studies,” he explained. “What happened? Did your car get stalled?”
“We’ve found the auto thieves—and the stolen cars!” Frank told him quickly.
“They’re not far from here, either. We want to use your telephone,” added Joe.
“The auto thieves!” gasped Jack incredulously. “You’ve found them?”
“The whole gang. And if we move fast we’ll be able to land the outfit,” answered Frank.
Jack quickly realized the situation. There was no time to be lost. He led the way into a hallway and pointed to the telephone.
“There you are!”
As it was a rural telephone line, he had to explain to the Hardy boys the proper number of rings necessary to arouse Central.
It took Frank some little time to get Central, as calls at that hour were infrequent out the Shore Road. The boys waited impatiently, but at last a sleepy voice answered the ring, and Frank hurriedly demanded the Bayport police headquarters.
He was soon in touch with the desk sergeant. He outlined the situation quickly.
“The gang were all up in the gully hauling a car out of the mud when we left. They’ll be clearing out as soon as they discover their man in the cave, so you’ll have to hurry,” said Frank.
“I’ll put every man available on it right away,” the sergeant promised. “I’ll call up Chief Collig at his house and tell him, too.”
“Fine! Will you notify the state troopers? It’s outside the city limits, you know.”
“I’ll call them up.”
“You’ll need a strong force of men, for this crowd are armed, and they’ll have a hundred hiding places in the woods and along that beach. We’ll keep a watch on the gully roads until you get here, and we’ll wait for you.”
“Good work! Are you sure it’s the gang we’ve been after?”
“Certain. We found
