They had landed at a point some twenty-five yards away from the entrance to the cove, but the rocks were so treacherous and the journey was so difficult that the distance seemed much longer.
“It must be Snackley and his gang, all right,” whispered Frank, as they went on through the night. “Didn’t you hear one of those men use a Chinese name?”
“He said something about Li Chang’s share.”
“Li Chang is probably the fellow who brings the dope to the coast. They bring the stuff into this cove by motorboat and rowboat and it is distributed from here. Dad said Snackley was smuggling dope.”
“It must have been Snackley who ordered us away from here. He seemed like a leader of some kind.”
“Five thousand dollars reward if we lay our hands on him!”
They had now reached the place where the seemingly solid coast line was broken by the indentation of the cove. They had feared that the cliff might be too steep at this point, but they found that it sloped gradually to the water and that there was a narrow ledge on which they could walk, one behind the other.
Here, they realized, the dangerous part of the adventure began.
It was very lonely in the shadow of the steep cliffs, and the loneliness was intensified by the distant moaning of the surf and the beat and wash of the waves against the reefs. Far in the distance they could see the reflection of the lights of Bayport through the mist and once or twice they could hear the murmur of Tony’s motorboat as it sped away down the bay.
“I hope they bring back lights and guns with them,” muttered Frank.