Phineas, who had been aboard the motor boat and busy with his famous culinary operations, now came lumbering up to the spot. He listened to a chorused explanation of the situation–tragic indeed in its appearance. Phineas looked up and down the rocky path, and across the inlet, and seemed to swiftly take a marine “observation.” Then he snorted.
“They’re all right!” he exclaimed.
“What?” shrieked Helen.
“All right?” repeated Heavy. “Why, Phineas––”
She broke off with a startled gurgle. Phineas turned quickly, too, and looked over the high boulder. There appeared the head of Ruth Fielding and, in a moment, the head of Tom Cameron beside it.
“You both was swept through the tunnel into the pool behind, sir,” said Phineas, wagging his head.
“Oh, I was never so scared in my life,” murmured Ruth, clambering down to the path, the water running from her clothing in little streams.
“Me, too!” grunted Tom, panting. “The tide sets in through that hole awfully strong.”
“I might have told you about it,” grunted Phineas; “but I didn’t suppose airy one of ye was going for to jump into the sea right here.”
“We didn’t–intentionally,” declared Ruth.