"Yes—there's a tunnel leading down into their main drift."
"Oh, those kids would never find it. Probably they were crushed to death by the cave-in, anyway."
The voices died away as the men evidently moved back from the neighborhood of the shaft-head.
"Some one has been looking for us," said Joe, in a low voice.
"They've given us up for dead. They'll get a surprise when we pop up out of the ground. Evidently they weren't going to try to dig us out. Go on up."
Joe resumed his climb and in a few minutes he emerged above ground, stepping off the top of the ladder to a rickety platform covered with snow. Frank scrambled up beside him, and then the two brothers stared in amazement at what they saw.
Three rough-looking men were standing only a few yards away. One was a tall, surly chap in a short, fur coat. He was badly in need of a shave and his brutal chin and heavy jowls were black with a stubble of beard. The other two were short and husky of build. One was clean-shaven and thin-featured, the other had a reddish mustache. About the waist of one of the men, the thin-featured fellow, was a belt with a holster from which projected the butt of a revolver. The three were villainous in appearance.
As though some sixth sense warned the men that they were observed, they whirled about and confronted the Hardy boys.
The men were as surprised as the lads. Both Frank and Joe realized that there was something unsavory about the strange trio and when they saw the thin-featured man suddenly reach for his revolver they knew that they were confronting not friends, but enemies.
"That's them!" shouted the man in the fur coat excitedly. "Grab them!" And with that he began to run toward the two boys. "No shooting!" he shouted to the thin-featured fellow, who promptly shoved his revolver back into the holster.