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 the Napoli, 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 the Napoli was 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 the Napoli began 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 the Napoli around, 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 redheaded 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 the Napoli, 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 the Napoli around.
“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 the Napoli out 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 the Napoli, 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
