Chapter VII "The Escape"

 

Jerry Gilroy held the nose of the Sleuth inshore and maneuvered so that the propeller remained in the deeper water as Frank Hardy, Biff Hooper and Chet Morton all clambered over the side to investigate the first cave.

It only took a moment or two to determine that the place had not been used as a hiding place for a long time, if ever. Frank shook his head and led the way back to the boat, telling himself to be patient. The odds of finding Joe in the first place they looked were- obviously- nonexistent.

"Did you find him?" Jerry called as they approached.

Frank said nothing; it should have been obvious enough that they hadn’t found Joe. If they had, he’d be with them!

"No luck," Biff reported.

Chet sounded discouraged as he remarked, "You know, we’re working on the slimmest of clues. The fair-haired guy and his friends might not have meant the Shore Road caves. Don’t forget, there are hundreds of subterranean caves between Gresham and Bayport."

"But the caves here are the best known," Frank replied, trying not to let Chet’s pessimism kill his hopes. "Let’s look some more. I’ll cruise along the shore and pick out the more likely caves to hide a prisoner."

The others agreed and Frank piloted the motorboat carefully along the channel, edging along the face of the cliff and avoiding sunken rocks. Whenever the boys noticed a larger opening that could be reached easily from the shore, Frank ran the boat in among the rocks. Then, while one boy stayed in the Sleuth, the others would scramble up to investigate the cave.

Hours dragged by. The boys grew weary, but persevered, carefully checking cave after cave. None of them showed any signs of being used. Finally the foursome navigated to a place where the cliff sloped and began to give way to sandy hills and wooded inclines.

Biff heaved a sigh, but whether it was of relief that they’d reached an end or disappointment that they hadn’t found Joe was anyone’s guess. "Looks like we’ll have to give up. There’s only one small opening that’d be any use to investigate."

Frank nodded, but drove the boat closer anyway, determined to take a closer look. "Might as well check it out before we turn back," he said quietly, feeling defeat spread over him.

"But why would kidnappers go way up to that cave when there’s dozens that are easier to reach?" Chet protested. "They’d have to climb fifty feet up to the mouth."

"It isn’t as steep as it looks," Frank remarked thoughtfully, gazing upward. "And I can see a sort of winding trail up the slope."

"I’m game," Jerry said, and was echoed by Biff.

Frank brought the Sleuth in closer and the boys craned their necks to look up at the tiny opening in the rock-face above them.

"Maybe you’re right, Chet. Joe’s kidnappers wouldn’t climb all the way up there, with so many better caves to pick from," Jerry admitted. "But it won’t hurt to check it out."

Chet gave a loud groan. "I’ve lost about three pounds already, climbing these cliffs!"

"Then you’d better tackle about fifty more caves, Chet," Biff needled him.

Frank ignored the teasing, his attention taken up by something he had seen that the others had not. A piece of newspaper was lodged among the stones under the cave’s mouth. That scrap might be significant! "I’m going up to check it out," he declared.

"I’ll stand watch," Chet volunteered, and maneuvered the boat around so the others could step out without getting soaked. Frank went first; Jerry and Biff followed.

They climbed the slope, following the trail Frank had spotted, but the incline was so steep and winding that they made slow progress. The path ended abruptly at a ledge some fifteen feet below the cave; from there they had to climb directly upward over the rocks.

When Frank, sweaty and panting, reached the piece of newspaper, he paused to pick it up. The sheet was wet and soggy from the fog, but he recognized it as a copy of the Gresham Times, dated the previous day. His hopes lifted with the discovery. For the third time since Joe’s disappearance the name of that town had come into the mystery. There had to be a connection! Maybe they wouldn’t find Joe here- he hardly dared to hope for that- but there might be some clue that would lead them to where he was being held!

Excited, Frank thrust the paper into his pocket and scrambled up toward the entrance of the cave.

"What’d you find?" Jerry gasped from behind him.

"Newspaper. Looks like a clue." Frank didn’t have the breath to explain further. He reached the cave mouth and stepped inside, his eyes searching for any hint of habitation. The interior was larger than he’d expected from the small size of the entrance; the cave widened considerably and seemed very deep.

Hearing and seeing nothing, the young detective dug a flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on. He played the beam on the rugged rock walls, the surprisingly level floor, and finally focused on a wooden box similar to those used for shipping food.

"Someone’s been here!" he hissed eagerly as Jerry and Biff entered the cave. "Look at that box- fresh bread crusts around it!"

"Don’t see anyone now," Jerry murmured. "Hey, listen-"

All three boys started to the alert at a peculiar sound, which seemed to have come from the back of the cave. A moment later it was repeated and they stared at each other apprehensively.

"Someone’s groaning," Frank whispered.

Biff pointed a shaky finger toward a large section of rock about twenty feet away. "From there-"

Again they heard groaning.

"Someone’s behind there!" Frank declared, a wild hope mingling with his fear. He ran towards the mass of rocks and directed the light into the shadows beyond, then gasped as its radiance fell upon a figure lying bound and gagged on a crude pallet of sacking.

"Joe!" Frank leapt forward, dropped to his knees, and pulled the gag from his brother’s mouth, oblivious to the yell of delight echoing from the roof as Biff and Jerry gave a victory whoop.

"Frank," his brother answered feebly, his voice hoarse. His ankles were bound together with rope and his hands had been tied behind his back. His face was white even in the flashlight glare and he looked ill; he seemed too exhausted to say anything more as their friends scrambled in behind the wall.

"To think we weren’t going to search this cave at all!" Biff exclaimed as he and Jerry worked at the ropes on Joe’s feet, getting in each others’ way. "And wait till Chet learns we found you! He’s down guarding the Sleuth."

Frank wedged the flashlight into a convenient crevice, pulled out his pocketknife and hacked at the bindings on Joe’s wrists. His brother gave a soft groan as the ropes fell away and bit his lips as he tried to lever himself from the floor. Frank slid an arm under Joe’s shoulders and helped him sit up.

"I’m hungry," Joe murmured shakily. "Haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday noon. They drugged me," he added, slowly rubbing his wrists and arms, "and I can still feel the effects. Kinda woozy. But how did you find me?"

"Aunt Gertrude get the credit." Frank quickly explained their aunt’s encounter with the fair-haired man at Gresham and his reference to ‘Hardy’ and ‘caves’.

"But Frank put two and two together," Biff spoke up, and mentioned the newspaper clue.

Joe smiled slightly and leaned against Frank’s side. "That was lucky for me. One of the gang had some food wrapped in a newspaper yesterday. Must’ve dropped a sheet."

"Was the big blond guy really mixed up in it?" Frank asked curiously.

Joe nodded. "He was, but there were others. They were after that thing in our car. Long story...tell you later," he finished with a sigh.

The boys refrained from asking any more questions about the case. "Do you feel strong enough to come with us now?" Frank asked gently. "If not, the guys can go back in the boat and get help-"

"I want to get out of here," Joe declared with a flash of spirit, and tried to stand up. He wavered, and would have fallen if Frank had not hopped up to catch him.

"We could carry you," Jerry offered.

Joe shook his head as Frank eased him back to the rock floor. "My legs are so numb from being tied up, I don’t seem to have any strength in them," he admitted. "I’d better wait a few-"

At that moment they heard a loud clattering, rolling sound, as if a rock had gone tumbling down a steep incline.

"What was that?" Biff whispered nervously.

"They’re coming back! We’ve gotta clear out quick!" Joe struggled to his feet again and clung to Frank’s steadying arm.

"They can get in from the rear of the cave?" the older boy wanted to know.

"Yes, a passage leads down from the top of the cliff."

The boys traded alarmed looks, then sprang into action. Jerry slipped his arm around Joe on the other side and helped Frank guide him toward the mouth of the cave. Biff scooped up the flashlight from the crevice and went ahead of them, lighting the way. It seemed to take more time to get out of the cave than it had to get into it, but at last they reached the entrance and emerged into the fresh air.

A war whoop split the quiet as the four boys started for the boat. It took only a moment for Frank to locate the source of the noise: Chet Morton, who was gazing up at the ledge from the Sleuth and giving vent to his delight at seeing Joe. Biff motioned frantically for silence, but their jubilant chum didn’t understand the urgent signals. He proceeded to put on a noisy celebration: yelling, waving his arms, and then- to their horror- whistling shrilly.

Frank gritted his teeth as he realized the men coming down the passage into the cave would surely hear the commotion and hurry to investigate. "We better make this quick!" he muttered, feeling a surge of resentment. Joe was in no shape to hurry, but he’d have to hurry nonetheless.

They reached the first ledge in safety, scrambling down the slope with Biff slipping and sliding on the stony path ahead of them. As they began the second half of the descent, there came a yell from behind them. Frank glanced back. A man was standing at the mouth of the cave, glaring at the boys. He turned and shouted to someone behind him and two more men quickly joined him.

"Go on," Joe’s voice hissed in the older Hardy’s ear. "I’m holding you up! If they catch us, we’ll all be-"

"Leave you, my foot!" Jerry growled breathlessly.

By this time, Biff had nearly reached the boat. "Chet!" he bellowed. "Shut up and get ready to scram! They’re after us!"

Chet, who had apparently not noticed the men, stopped his noise and started the Sleuth’s engine. A few seconds later, Biff hopped aboard. Frank and Jerry clung to Joe on the narrow path, rocks sliding treacherously under their feet.

Frank glanced back again and paled as he saw that one of the men was pointing a revolver at them. Another had stooped and was snatching up stones. The gun went off with a roar and a bullet whistled overhead. Frank and Jerry ducked instinctively at the sound, nearly losing hold of Joe. A large stone hurtled past them and thunked into the water beside the boat with a heavy splash. A hail of stones followed the first one and the man with the revolver fired again. Frank cringed as several of the bullets came dangerously near their mark. Beside him, Joe’s face was stark white and his eyes were huge.

"Hurry!" Biff shouted as Chet revved the engine. "Just a few more yards!"

Frank and Jerry scrambled to the bottom of the incline with Joe. Scraping noises from behind them told Frank that at least one of the men was following, but he didn’t dare look back again as Jerry leaped into the boat. Joe sagged, half his support gone, too exhausted to stand. Jerry reached over the bow, and with Frank helping from shore, Joe was hauled aboard.

Just as Frank was about to climb into the Sleuth himself, an agonizing pain slammed through his left leg. He lost his balance and fell, landing half in the water and half on the shore. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but his leg doubled under him. One of the rocks thrown by the men above had hit its mark!

Shots sounded again and a splinter flew from the nose of the boat.

"Hurry, Frank!" Chet shouted.

"Give me a hand," Frank gritted. If Chet hadn’t made so much noise-!

Biff scrambled over the edge, grabbed Frank, and dragged him onto the deck. Frank’s leg throbbed at the movement and he could scarcely keep from crying out.

The man on the path was only a few yards away now! He showered the air with rocks!

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.