Toward mid-morning Tony chanced to look up and gaze out toward the mainland. He leaped up with a frantic yell.
“Here they come!” he shrieked. “Here they are!”
The others rose and stared. Then, as the meaning of what they saw dawned on them, they cheered hoarsely, and danced with delight until the motorboat rocked and swayed beneath their feet.
Cleaving the waves, came a low, rakish craft, speeding along with white wings of foam at her prow. It rushed silently toward them with the grace of an arrow. It was a United States revenue cutter, and when the boys in the boat witnessed its approach they knew that the Hardy boys had been successful in obtaining the aid they had gone to seek.
The boys cheered and waved their arms, trying to signal to the cutter that they had located Chet and Biff. Finally, Tony started up the engine and brought the Napoli alongside. The cutter slowly came to a stop, there was a clank and a clatter as the anchor was sent over.
A husky revenue officer with a revolver strapped to his waist leaned over the side and hailed them.
“Did you find them?” he roared.
“They were caught again, right on this shore!” shouted Tony. “The gang are still here.”
“Fine! We’ll be right over. Tie your craft alongside and come along in our boat!”
The lads needed no second urging. A ladder was flung over the side and, after securely tying the Napoli, they clambered up on the deck of the cutter where they found the Hardy boys awaiting them.
In a few swift words Tony acquainted them with the circumstances surrounding the recapture of Chet and Biff. The revenue officer who had first hailed them nodded with satisfaction.
“As long as we know that those rascals haven’t left the island, it’s all right,” he declared. “We’ll have them in hand before long.”
He turned and gave a curt order to one of his men and in a remarkably short space of time there were a dozen broad-shouldered chaps in readiness, with rifles and revolvers. Another order, and a boat was lowered over the side.
“Away we go!” announced the officer. “It won’t be long now.”
XXIII
Home Again
Tony Prito and his chums guided the landing party to the boulders behind which the gangsters and their captives had disappeared, but when Frank Hardy saw that the prey had flown he assumed the role of guide.
“They’ve gone up to the cave,” he said. “I know the way.”
With Joe, he went in advance of the party. Tony, Phil and Jerry came behind, with the officer and his men, their faces alight with anticipation of a battle, clambering up the hillside in their wake. The sturdy, tanned men were alert and ready for the approaching fight.
Through the grove, down the leafy trail, the Hardy boys led them, and at last they came within sight of the clearing. The great rock and the dark entrance of the cave were in sight. There was no sign of any human being.
“Deploy!” ordered the officer.
The men scattered. The Hardy boys and their chums, being unarmed, were obliged to watch from the shelter of the grove, because they realized that there would probably be gunfire.
The men began to make their way across the open space, running from rock to rock, keeping well scattered, all eying the entrance to the cave.
Suddenly, a shot sounded from the cave entrance. Almost simultaneously one of the revenue men fired. The boys had seen no one in the cave but the keen eyes of the rifleman had, and when the body of a man slumped forward out of the cave, falling on the rocks, with a revolver clattering from his nerveless fingers, his judgment was verified.
And this, to the disappointment of the watchers, was the end of the fight. For the gangsters, like so many of their kind, were cowardly and they became unnerved at the fate of the first of their men who had shown fight.
Out of the cave entrance came a man bearing aloft a white handkerchief in token of surrender. He was followed by the others, with hands upraised, and behind them came Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, their wrists still bound, but their faces alight with joy, in contrast to the surly visages of the gangsters.
“Well, well!” declared the officer in charge, as he confronted the rascals, noting the frowning red-haired man. “If it isn’t Red Hawkins and his gang! And you too, Pete! We’ve been looking for your hangout for the past three months—and for you as well. Put the cuffs on ’em, boys.”
In a few moments the gang were securely handcuffed. The man who had been shot was attended to and it was found that he had been wounded, but after a brief examination and the rendering of first aid, the officer assured the victim that he would live to face trial with the rest for the abduction of Chet and Biff.
“And if that charge falls through—which it won’t,” he assured them all, “we have a list of other charges against you, as long as your arm.”
But the Hardy boys and their chums were oblivious to this scene. They were too busy staging an impromptu reunion. Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, freed of their bonds, were busy shaking hands all round and trying to explain to their excited comrades some of the adventures they had gone through since leaving Bayport.
Then the Hardy boys were called on to explain how they had encountered the revenue cutter and how they had told their story and prevailed on the revenue men to come with them to Blacksnake Island to effect the rescue of their chums.
“But we can talk it over better on the way back,” declared Frank.
“Coming back with us?” asked the officer. “We’re taking these men to Rock Harbor, but you’re welcome to come along.”
“No thanks—we’ll be going back in the motorboats.”
“I see. Well, we’ll take this gang back to the ship. Forward—march, you!” he shouted
