"I wonder who he could have been," mused Frank.
"Perhaps somebody who was down here searching for the smugglers or bootleggers or whoever has been raising all the fuss around here," his brother suggested.
"He hasn't shown up yet," Chet remarked cheerfully. He looked out into the storm and shivered. "Somehow, I have an idea he won't be along to-night, either," he added, edging nearer the fire.
"I guess we'd better have a good night's sleep and then start our exploring to-morrow," Frank said. "We can start right on this cave, for that matter. It seems to lead back for quite a distance."
"Sleep sounds good to me." Biff yawned.
Although part of the floor of the cave was rocky, much of it was sand, which provided a fairly comfortable resting place. The boys were tired after their long journey, so they wrapped themselves up in their blankets and were soon drowsily chatting, while the fire died lower and lower.
At last only the embers glowed crimson in the darkness. Chet Morton was already snoring. Soon, all were asleep.
The fire was a scarlet eye in the blackness of the cave. Beyond the entrance, rain still poured in a seemingly endless torrent and the surf roared dully.
An hour passed. Two hours.
Joe, who had been sleeping soundly, was awakened. At first he did not realize where he was, could not imagine why he was sleeping on the ground, wrapped in a heavy blanket, and then it gradually came back to him and he remembered about the cave.