"We'll wait till they go to sleep," he whispered to Joe.
His brother nodded. The two boys remained crouched among the rocks. The rain had died away to a mere drizzle.
Gradually the fire, untended, died down, and there was only a faint, rosy glow through the interior of the cave. Two or three of the men had talked together in low murmurs for a while, but gradually their voices died away and soon the boys could hear their snores. It was nearly an hour, however, before they were satisfied that all the men were asleep.
"I'm going in after Chet and Biff," whispered Frank, with determination.
"I'm with you."
"The keys are still lying beside the fire."
"Good."
Frank rose from his cramped position among the rocks. Joe followed his example. Quietly, they moved toward the entrance of the cave.
The snores of the slumbering men were unbroken. Frank took the lead and tiptoed slowly forward. Step by step, keeping a wary eye on the recumbent forms wrapped in the blankets, the boys made their way into the cave.
Frank remembered where the keys had been thrown, and now he saw them in the sand. The faint glow of the firelight gleamed on them.