"A little over an hour ago. They stepped out of the bushes, each man masked and carrying a revolver. Bill was at the wheel and I was on the seat beside him. They made him stop the truck and then they made us get down into the road. When we did that, one of the hold-up men covered us with his revolver while the other tied us up. He made a good job of it, too, I'll tell the world. We couldn't move hand or foot."
"How did they get you down onto the beach?"
"They rolled us down the embankment! Don't we look it?"
The clothes of both men had been badly tattered and torn, while their arms and faces also gave evidence of the bruises and lacerations they had suffered in their descent.
"I thought we'd roll clean into the bay," said the other man. "If we had, it would have been all up with us."
"We'd have been drowned, without a chance to save ourselves," his companion agreed. "As it was, we came pretty close to the water's edge, banged and battered from that toboggan slide, and then we just had to lie there until somebody came along and set us free. At first we thought some one would surely see us from the road, but as car after car went by we began to lose hope.
"I was afraid it would get dark and then no one would be able to see us, even if they did chance to look down this way. It wouldn't have been very pleasant, staying out on that beach all night."
"Did you see where the truck went to?" asked Frank.
The men shook their heads.
"The hold-up men drove away in it—that's all we know," said one.