Eventually they saw the blinking light that plainly told them that the outer passage was guarded.
“Fine,” said the trooper. He raised the whistle to his lips. “All ready, men?”
“All set,” answered one of the constables, in a low voice.
The shrill blast of the whistle sounded through the night. With one accord, the men leaped forward, plunged into the bushes, and crowded into the tunnel. Their flashlights made the dark passage as bright as day.
As they entered they could hear a confused uproar ahead. The roar of an automobile, the sound magnified tenfold in the subterranean passages, crashed out. There were shouts, cries of warning and alarm.
“We’ve got them trapped!” shouted the trooper.
They stumbled down the rocky passage. A man came blundering around a corner, right into the arms of the foremost officer. He was seized, there was a gleam of metal, a click, and the auto thief was handcuffed before he fully realized what had happened.
“One!” counted the sergeant. “Now for the others!”
They passed the Hardy boys’ roadster and caught a glimpse of a man fleeing before them into the main cave. The trooper drew his revolver and sent a shot over the fellow’s head.
The man came to an abrupt stop and raised his arms. He surrendered without a fight.
“Two!” yelled the sergeant gleefully, pouncing on his prisoner. Another pair of handcuffs was produced, the chain was slipped through the chain of the other thief’s shackles, and the pair were swiftly manacled together.
The officers plunged on into the main cave.
In the glare of the flashlights they saw the truck and one of the pleasure cars standing by the wall. The two other cars that had been in the cave had disappeared. No men were in sight.
The raiding party heard the roar of a racing engine, a grinding of brakes, and a confusion of shouts.
“They’re getting out!” Frank Hardy shouted. He pointed to the huge opening in the wall, through which the car had disappeared.
With the police at his heels, he headed down the passage. It was wider than the one through which they had entered, and the rocky floor gave way to earth, in which ruts were clearly visible.
Ahead of them they heard a shot, then more yells.
“Joe and his men are on the job,” Frank reflected.
He was right. They reached the mouth of the passage, and there they came upon a large touring car. Two men were standing up in the front seat, arms upraised, and in the glare of the headlights they could see Joe and the three officers pointing their weapons at the pair.
The roundup was soon over. One of the policemen scrambled into the automobile and clapped handcuffs on the two men. The trooper, standing on the running board, turned a flashlight upon them.
The surly features of Gus Montrose were revealed. The other man was his companion, Sam.
“All out!” snapped the officer, urging the crestfallen thieves out of the car.
They stepped out sullenly.
“Well, here’s four of ’em, anyway!” declared the trooper. He turned to Frank. “Do you think there are any more?”
“There’s still another. He was the chap who got stuck in the mud up in the gully. Perhaps he’s up there yet, if the Dodds haven’t caught him on the way out.”
The trooper despatched two of his men up the gully road at once, to see if they could locate the other member of the gang.
“Well, Montrose,” he said, turning to the former hired man, “so we’ve landed you at last.”
Gus looked down at the handcuffs.
“I’d have been clear away if it wasn’t for them brats of boys!” he said viciously.
“They were a little too smart for you and your gang.”
The four auto thieves were herded together and an officer with drawn revolver was put on guard.
“I guess we’ll go back into the cave and see what we can find,” decided the trooper.
Leaving the prisoners under guard, he and some of his men, together with the Hardy boys, went back into the main cavern, where the officers inspected the remaining cars and the loot that they found stored there. The sergeant rubbed his hands gleefully.
“Everything’s here,” he said. “At least, everything we need to make an airtight case against that gang. And we’ll recover the rest of the stuff without much trouble, I imagine.”
He turned to Joe Hardy.
“You said you learned where they were sending the cars?” he inquired.
“They spoke of a man named Clancy in Atlantic City. They drove the stolen cars out through the gully, across the Shore Road onto one of those old private roads, and then down the coast.”
“That’s all we want to know. We’ll wire the Atlantic City police as soon as we get back to headquarters.”
“We might as well bring back as much of this stuff as we can,” said the trooper. “Make a triumphal procession of it.”
Some of the loot they found already loaded into the small truck, in preparation for the getaway, and in a short time they had cleared the cave and the passage of the other packing boxes. One of the officers was assigned to the wheel of the truck and another was detailed to drive the other car. Frank and Joe announced their intention of driving their own roadster back to Bayport.
Before long, the little cavalcade was in readiness to start.
In the lead was the touring car, with four sullen and defeated auto thieves huddled in the back seat, a trooper and a constable in front.
Next came the truck, loaded with stolen goods. It was followed by the other pleasure car, with the sergeant and the other officers sitting at their ease. Behind it came the roadster, with the Hardy boys.
The foremost car followed the gully road without difficulty. The headlights illuminated the way clearly, and the automobiles lumbered up toward the Shore Road. They had no trouble in the muddy section where Dan had come to grief, for the thieves had covered the spot with branches and the cars crossed without becoming stalled.
The road led through the woods and finally ended in a
