"I saw a light ahead."
"I thought I did too. Right on the shore."
They waited. In a moment the light reappeared. It bobbed slowly up and down and appeared to be moving down toward the beach.
"Somebody is going down to meet the boat. It must be one of the gang," declared Frank.
The boys went forward more cautiously. The next flash of lightning showed that Frank's assumption was correct. They could see four men in oilskins trudging down among the rocks. The man in the lead carried a powerful electric lantern that cast a vivid beam of light upon the rain-washed boulders.
They saw that the man in the motorboat was heading toward a small bay that afforded ideal protection from the storm. The entrance was very narrow and great waves dashed over the rocks with showers of white spray, but the man in the boat guided his craft skillfully into the channel. He was in difficulties for a few moments, but by good steering brought the craft around. Then it shot forward, making the channel neatly, and surged down toward the beach.
The men in oilskins were there to meet him. The boat was run up on the sand and the lone steersman sprang out and splashed through the water. For a few moments the five men conferred, standing there on the dark beach, with the wind whipping their oilskins about their legs, the lantern gleaming like a white eye, and the rain pouring down upon them. They looked like five sinister birds of prey as they stood there in the storm, and then they turned and began to walk back up over the rocks toward the center of the island.
"This must be their landing place," said Frank. "And that means they must have a good trail from here to the cave."
"Let's follow them," suggested Joe.
"Just what I was going to say. We know our boat is safe, and we can't get any wetter than we are now."