THE CAVE
The boys gazed at one another in surprise.
"Where on earth did Joe disappear to?" exclaimed Biff Hooper.
They peered into the gray oblivion of the storm, but the rain was
teeming down in such heavy torrents and the gloom was so intense that
it was impossible to see more than twenty yards away.
"We'll have to go back," decided Frank quickly. "He probably sat down
to rest and got lost when he tried to catch up with us again."
They retraced their steps over the rocks, keeping close together. They
shouted again and again, but in the roar of wind, rain, and thunder
they knew there was little chance that Joe would hear them.
"I never thought to look back," said Chet. "I thought he was right
behind us."
"Same here," declared Biff. "He might have dropped back five or ten
minutes ago and we didn't know it."
The search seemed hopeless. It was late in the afternoon and already
getting dark. Once in a while they stopped and listened, hoping to hear
some faint cry from Joe, but there was nothing.
"Perhaps he fell down and hurt himself," suggested Frank, "He may be
lying behind some of these big rocks and we can't see him."
The boys searched patiently.
Joe Hardy was nowhere to be found.
They did not dare scatter, for fear of losing one another, but they
hunted among the rocks, realizing the hopeless nature of their quest.
At last they halted, standing in a little group, with rain pouring down
on them.
Frank expressed the fear they had all held for the past few minutes.
"I wonder if he could have fallen over the cliff!"
They had been going along within a few yards of the uneven edge of the
cliff and they realized that, in the rain and the dim light, it would
have been easy for Joe to have stumbled into the abyss. They turned
sick at the thought of the frightful plunge, ending in certain death,
had he tumbled over the verge.
Suddenly, above the roar of the storm, they heard a faint cry.
"Listen!" cried Frank.
Breathlessly, they waited.
Again came the cry.
"Help! Help!"
It was from almost at their feet.
Frank ran quickly forward. At the very edge of the cliff, he stopped
and peered down.
Over to one side, a few feet below the top of the sheer wall of rock,
he spied a dark figure.
It was Joe!
He seemed to be clinging directly to the side of the cliff.
Hastily shouting to the others, Frank ran across the rocks until he
came to a place immediately above where he had seen his brother. He
flung himself flat and peered over into the dizzy depths.
Just beneath, he could see Joe's white face. His brother was clinging
to a small bush growing out of the side of the cliff. Had the bush been
his only support, he would not have been able to maintain his hold, but
fortunately there was a ledge of rock, a few inches wide, in which he
had managed to implant his feet. Thus he had clung to the face of the
cliff.
"Quick!" shouted Frank, to the others. He realized the need for haste.
"He's here!"
"I can't hold on much longer!" called Joe, in a strained voice.
"We'll get you out of this," Frank assured him. But his heart sank when
he saw that Joe was beyond his reach.
Biff and Chet came running up, and Frank tersely explained the
situation to them.
"There's only one thing to do," he said. "Both of you hang on to me
while I lower myself over."
Biff peeped over the edge of the cliff.
"You'll never make it," he said. "You'll both be killed."
"We're not going to stand idle until he gets exhausted and lets go his
hold," declared Frank. "It's the only chance, and I'm going to take it."
He flung himself down and began to edge forward until he was leaning
far over the verge. Biff and Chet seized his ankles and set themselves
by digging their heels against the rocks. Bit by bit, Frank lowered
himself, headfirst, over the side. His outstretched hands were but a
few inches away from Joe's wrists. Joe still clung to the bush that had
saved his life.
Frank dared not look down, for he was hanging at a dizzy height. He
closed his eyes.
"A little more," he called out.
He swung lower and gripped Joe's wrists. He secured a tight hold. There
was no time to lose, as he knew it would take every ounce of strength
he possessed to drag his brother back to safety, and he was growing
weaker all the time.
"Ready, Joe?"
"All right," gasped Joe.
"Haul away!"
Chet and Biff began dragging Frank back. There was a double weight now,
for Joe relaxed his grip on the root to which he had been clinging and
was now dangling in space, supported only by Frank's firm grip on his
wrists. Frank had no idea that his brother weighed so much; the strain
was terrific.
Gradually, however, he was drawn back to safety. For one horrible
moment he thought he was losing his hold on Joe's wrists, as their
locked hands reached the edge of the precipice. But Chet, leaning
forward, seized the back of Joe's shirt, clung to him while Biff
scrambled over, and together they hauled him up onto the rocks.
For a moment, neither of the Hardy boys could say a word, they were so
exhausted by the ordeal. Above them the storm still raged, the rain
still poured from the black skies, the lightning still flickered, and
the thunder still boomed and rumbled.
"Boy, that was a narrow squeak!" said Chet solemnly, at last.
"Don't talk about it," said Joe, closing his eyes, as though to shut
out the memory of the sight. "I can still see the waves away down
beneath me. I was never so near death in my life."
"We'll stick closer together after this. How did it happen?" Frank
asked.
"I stopped to tie my shoelace. When I looked up again I couldn't see
you chaps at all, so I began to run to catch up. I didn't realize I
was so near the edge of the cliff. Then some of the rock must have
broken off under my feet, because everything gave way and I felt myself
falling."
"You're mighty lucky you're here to tell us about it," said Biff.
"I'll say I am! I just managed to grab that root growing out of the
side of the cliff and I hung there until I thought my arms would be
pulled out of their sockets. I thought I'd never be able to hold on
until you found me."
"It was quite a while before we missed you."
"At any rate, I _couldn't_ have held on, but I managed to find that
ledge and got my feet on it. That rested me. I was certainly glad when
I heard you fellows shouting for me."
Recovering somewhat from their grueling experience, Frank and Joe Hardy
got to their feet.
"Let's run for it," suggested Chet. "We're drenched to the skin, as it
is, but I don't want to stay out in this storm any longer than I have
to."
With one accord, the boys resumed their journey over the rocks. This
time no one lagged behind. For safety's sake they stayed close
together and well away from the verge of the cliff.
In a short time Frank gave a cry of delight.
"The ravine!" he yelled.
Through the pouring rain, just a few yards ahead, they discerned a deep
cut in the rocks.
They scrambled toward it. The ravine was deep and the slope was steep,
but they had been fortunate in reaching it just at a point where a path
led down among the rocks.
Far below, they could see the beach and the breaking rollers.
Slipping and stumbling, the boys made their way down the steep, winding
path in the down-pour. The storm was unabated. Its violence, on the
contrary, seemed to have increased. The rain came down in sheets.
Halfway down the path, Joe gave a cry of excitement.
"A cave!"
He pointed down toward the base of the cliff, just visible from the
path.
There, but a short distance from the breaking waves, was a dark hole in
the steep wall of rock.