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.
XVI
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
