The keys were on the side of the fire nearest the men. It would be a delicate job to get possession of them. He bent forward and crawled on hands and knees. Joe came silently behind.
Frank skirted the fire, then groped carefully forward.
There was a mutter from the shadows. One of the men stirred in his sleep.
The boys remained rigid.
The muttering died away. After a long pause, Frank again reached for the keys.
His hands closed over them. He gripped them tightly so that they would not jangle together. Then he moved slowly back onto the rock ledge, the keys safely in his grasp.
The Hardy boys continued their silent journey toward the darkness in the rear of the cave. The dying fire cast little light.
Little by little they edged forward into the depths of the cave, past the sleeping men. The slightest noise, they knew, might be sufficient to arouse one of the gang. They proceeded with the utmost caution toward the back of the cavern.
At length Frank found what he sought. It was a dark patch in the rear wall—the entrance to the inner chamber.
He reached it safely and groped his way through into the pitchy blackness beyond. He stopped and listened. The sound of deep breathing told him that his two chums were asleep within.