THE HARDY BOYS
THE SECRET OF THE CAVES
By FRANKLIN W. DIXON
AUTHOR OF
THE HARDY BOYS: THE TOWER TREASURE
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SECRET OF THE OLD MILL
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SHORE ROAD MYSTERY
_ILLUSTRATED BY_
WALTER S. ROGERS
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
MYSTERY STORIES FOR BOYS
By FRANKLIN W. DIXON
THE HARDY BOYS: THE TOWER TREASURE
THE HARDY BOYS: THE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SECRET OF THE OLD MILL
THE HARDY BOYS: THE MISSING CHUMS
THE HARDY BOYS: HUNTING FOR HIDDEN GOLD
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SHORE ROAD MYSTERY
THE HARDY BOYS: THE SECRET OF THE CAVES
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Copyright, 1929, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.
The Hardy Boys: The Secret of the Caves
CONTENTS
I OVERBOARD
II THE RESCUE
III MISS TODD
IV CONCERNING TODHAM TODD
V PLANS FOR A TRIP
VI THE MISSING MOTORCYCLE
VII CARL SCHAUM
VIII STRANGE DOINGS
IX THE STORM
X THE CAVE
XI FOOTSTEPS IN THE NIGHT
XII A DISAPPEARANCE
XIII STOLEN SUPPLIES
XIV CAPTAIN ROYAL
XV THE OLD SAILOR
XVI "GO AWAY!"
XVII THE MAN ON THE SHORE
XVIII THE PRISONER
XIX CLIPPINGS
XX THE SHOTGUN
XXI OVER THE CLIFF
XXII IN SWIRLING WATERS
XXIII BACK TO BAYPORT
XXIV AT THE HOSPITAL
XXV THE LAST OF CAPTAIN ROYAL
THE HARDY BOYS:
THE SECRET OF THE CAVES
CHAPTER I
OVERBOARD
"Well, the stealing of autos in this neighborhood has come to an end,
Frank. Wonder if anybody will ever take to stealing motorboats."
"Perhaps, Joe. But there isn't the chance to steal a boat that there
was to steal cars."
"Gee, now that the excitement is over I wonder what will come up next."
"Don't know; but something is bound to happen sooner or later--it
always does."
"Hope it comes soon--I don't want to get rusty."
It was a Saturday afternoon in June, one of those warm, drowsy days
when even the leaves of the trees seem too indolent to stir. There was
scarcely a ripple on the surface of the water, no movement but the
flow of the incoming tide.
Three motorboats circled lazily about in Barmet Bay within sight of the
city of Bayport. The lazy spirit of the afternoon seemed to have spread
to the occupants of the boats, for they lounged about in comfortable
attitudes.
Biff Hooper, in his craft, the _Envoy_, had devised a way of steering
with his foot while sprawled on the side cushions.
In a motorboat close by, the _Napoli_, sat Tony Prito, whose dark hair,
olive skin, and sparkling eyes indicated his Italian parentage even
more emphatically than his name. In the third craft were two lads who
need no introduction to readers of previous volumes in this series.
The boy at the wheel, a tall, dark, handsome lad of about sixteen, was
Frank Hardy, and the other, a fair, curly-headed fellow about a year
his junior, was his brother Joe. These boys were the sons of Fenton
Hardy, an internationally famous private detective who lived in Bayport.
"I didn't expect to see you fellows out on the bay this afternoon,"
shouted Biff Hooper, raising his head over the side of his boat.
"Where did you think we'd be?" called back Frank. "Up in the attic,
studying?"
"Thought you'd be out in your car," and Biff grinned widely.
There was a laugh from Tony Prito, and the Hardy boys also laughed with
great good-humor. Their car was a standing joke among their chums, and,
as Chet Morton put it, "standing" joke described it exactly, for it
seldom moved.
"Never mind," returned Joe. "That old car served its purpose, anyway.
We used it only as bait."
"It was mighty good bait," said Tony. "You caught some big fish with
that old crate."
"It has earned its keep," Frank called back. "We're going to put it
on a pension and let it stay in our garage for the rest of its life,
without charge."
The boys were referring to a roadster that the Hardy lads had purchased
out of their savings some time previous. It was a car that proved the
old axiom that beauty is only skin deep, for although it glittered with
nickel and paint and although its lines were trim and smooth, its inner
workings were utterly beyond the comprehension of Bayport mechanics.
For a few weeks after its purchase the car ran, eccentrically enough,
but still it ran. Then, one day, for no apparent reason, it gave up the
ghost and no amount of tinkering would prompt it even to move out of
the garage.
However, as Joe had said, the car had served its purpose. The boys
had picked it up cheaply, with a definite object in view. As told in
the preceding volume of this series, "The Hardy Boys: The Shore Road
Mystery," there had been a series of mysterious automobile thefts on
the Shore Road leading out of Bayport, numerous pleasure cars and
trucks having been stolen, and no amount of investigation on the part
of the police had succeeded in revealing their whereabouts or the
identity of the thieves.
Frank and Joe Hardy, who had earned considerable local fame by their
activities as amateur detectives, in emulation of their famous father,
had decided to lay a trap for the automobile thieves and, buying the
gorgeous rattle-trap, parked it on the Shore Road for several nights,
concealing themselves in the rear. After many adventures, the Hardy
boys captured the thieves and recovered the stolen cars. They collected
several handsome rewards for their work, so their investment in the
roadster proved exceedingly profitable after all.
"The car owners around Bayport have sure been breathing easier since
that affair was cleared up," said Biff.
"I don't think there'll be any more car thieving for a long time," Tony
declared. "The two sleuths here put a stop to that."
"We had a good time doing it," Frank admitted. "I'm rather sorry it's
all over."
"Never satisfied!" commented Biff.
He prodded the wheel with his foot and the _Envoy_ swung about with its
nose pointing down the bay. Barmet Bay, three miles long, opened on the
Atlantic, and in the distance the boys could see a motor yacht that ran
daily between Bayport and one of the towns on the coast, a trim little
passenger craft that was proceeding toward them at a fast clip.
"Where are you going?" shouted Tony.
"Out to meet the passenger boat."
"Race you!"
"So will we!" called Frank.
Biff abandoned his indolent posture and settled down to take advantage
of his head start. His boat leaped ahead with a roar. Tony Prito had to
make a half turn before he could get under way.
The Hardy boys were similarly unprepared, but they had no doubt of the
ability of the _Sleuth_ to overhaul Biff's boat quickly. Their craft
was one of the speediest in the bay, with smooth lines and a powerful
engine.
They had trouble on the turn, for the swells of the other boats caught
the _Sleuth_ and put it off its course, and by the time the craft was
nosing in pursuit, Biff Hooper had a good lead and Tony Prito was also
ahead of them.
"Step on it!" said Joe.
Frank "stepped on it," and the _Sleuth_ began eating up the
intervening distance. Rocking and swaying, prow well out of the water,
the boat overhauled the _Napoli_ and Frank grinned at Tony as they
crept by. The Italian lad was getting every ounce of speed of which his
engine was capable and although he jockeyed to try to put the Hardy
boys off the course, they sped on and soon left him behind.
Biff had been tinkering with the engine of his craft and had evidently
made a few improvements, for the _Envoy_ was going along at a clip it
had never before achieved.
"Looks as if he intends to put one over on us," muttered Frank, as he
opened up the engine to the last notch. "He'll beat us to the boat at
this rate."
The motor yacht was about a mile away.
On through the water plunged the _Sleuth_, gaining slowly but surely on
the craft ahead.
Once in a while Biff cast a hasty glance backward to wave mockingly at
them. He misjudged an approaching wave on one of these occasions and
the _Envoy_ swerved; he lost valuable seconds righting the craft into
its course again and the _Sleuth_ gained.
The yacht was about a quarter of a mile distant when the _Sleuth_ at
last pulled up beside the other boat. Inch by inch it forged ahead
until the bow of each boat was on a line with the other. Then the
_Sleuth's_ greater speed became manifest as it pulled away, leaving
Biff shaking his head in exasperation.
Suddenly Joe, who had been looking at the passenger yacht in the
distance, gave a shout of alarm.
"Look!" he cried.
Frank glanced up just in time to see an immense puff of black smoke
bursting from above the deck of the yacht. Then, across the waves, was
borne to their ears the roar of an explosion.
They could see figures running about on the deck of the boat. One of
them, a woman, ran directly to the rail and began to clamber up on it.
"What on earth--" gasped Joe.
"She's going overboard!"
Another figure ran out, making a frantic grab at the woman who was
balanced perilously on top of the rail. Then, her arms outspread, the
woman jumped. The boys saw her plunge down the side of the yacht, and
there was a splash as she hurtled into the water.
A moment later she emerged and they could see her swimming about and
waving her arms. The _Sleuth_ had drawn closer to the yacht in the
meantime and now the boys could hear a faint cry for help.
Tensely, Frank leaned over the wheel. Great clouds of smoke were
pouring from the yacht.
"We'll have to rescue her!" he said. "It's her only chance."
The yacht had passed the woman by now, and although a life-buoy had
been flung out it was some distance away from her. Hampered by her wet
clothes, the woman was making no progress toward it. Slowly, the yacht
began to circle, but the lads saw that it would never reach her in time.
The _Sleuth_ ploughed on through the waves.
The boys saw the woman throw up her hands with a despairing gesture and
disappear beneath the surface.