CHAPTER 12 CAUGHT BY THE TIDE

Unwilling to be left behind, Louise followed her chum into the dark cavern. Once she and Penny were well beyond the yawning mouth of the cave, they could not see a foot ahead of them. Guided by the sound of rushing water, they groped their way along a damp wall.

“This is awful!” Louise whispered nervously. “Let’s turn back.”

Penny might have yielded to her chum’s coaxing but at that moment the tunnel broadened out and became lighter. Directly ahead a series of steps led down to a lower room of the cave.

“This place must be safe enough or steps wouldn’t have been built here,” she whispered. “Don’t be nervous, Lou. We may discover something important.”

Louise muttered that they were more likely to break their necks. However, she cautiously followed Penny down the rock-hewn steps. Half way down, they both paused. From below came a weird sound.

“What was that?” Louise whispered.

“It sounded for all the world like the note of a pipe organ!” Penny observed. “There it is again—a different tone this time.”

Noiselessly the girls moved on down the steps. Ahead of them they now could see a moving light which undoubtedly was a flash lantern carried by the beachcomber. Drawing closer, they saw the man himself. In the great cavern his shadow appeared grotesque and huge.

“What is he doing?” Louise whispered in awe.

The man was unaware that he had been followed. He stood in the center of the great chamber, gazing with wrapt expression at the stalagmites which rose in strange formations from the cave floor. The girls could hear him muttering to himself. At the risk of being seen they moved closer.

“Music! Music!” the old man mumbled. “Talk about your pipe organs! They ain’t in it with this!”

He held a long stick in his hand and with it began to explore the row of stalagmites, striking them one by one, at first with a slow tempo and then faster and faster. The weird sounds echoed and reached through the galleries of the cavern.

“Pretty!” the old man prattled. “It’s the music o’ Heaven. There ain’t no music to equal it.”

Again the beachcomber struck the stalagmites, listening raptly while the sounds died slowly away.

“Come on, Penny,” Louise urged, tugging at her hand. “Let’s get out of here. That old goof has lost his buttons.”

Decidedly crestfallen, Penny permitted herself to be pulled along the passage and up the steps. As the girls groped their way to the cave’s mouth, they still could hear the weird echoing tones.

“That was a good joke on you!” Louise teased. “You thought you were going to find a hidden radio station!”

“Well, we did find a cave,” Penny said defensively.

“We didn’t exactly discover it,” Louise amended. “This must be Crystal Cave. Seemingly that old beachcomber regards it as his own personal property.”

“Mr. Emory certainly gave us a wrong steer. A mysterious character, my eye!”

“You’ll admit that the old fellow is interesting,” Louise laughed. “However, I doubt he’ll warrant much attention from the FBI.”

“All right, laugh,” Penny retorted grimly. “You think my detective efforts are a joke anyway.”

“No, I don’t, Penny. But I will say I doubt you’ll have success tracing a hidden radio station. After all, it’s a problem that has the State authorities baffled. Not to mention Uncle Sam’s Army.”

The girls stepped from the cave out into the brilliant sunshine. Gazing toward the sea, they were amazed to see how high the tide had risen. Giant waves were washing very close to the Parker automobile left on the beach.

“Ye fishes!” Penny exclaimed in horror. “I forgot all about the car!”

“And the tide’s coming in fast!”

“The Point will be cut off in a few more minutes!” Penny added, recalling Mr. Emory’s warning. “We’ll have to travel, and travel fast!”

Scrambling down from the rocks, the girls plunged through the dunes to the beach. A wind was blowing and the sea had an angry look.

“If just one wave strikes the car, the wheels will sink in the sand, and then we’ll be in it!” Penny cried.

With increasing alarm she noted that sand was damp within a foot of the rear wheels. And as she jerked open the car door, a greedy wave nipped again at the rubber.

“We’ll soon be out of here,” Louise said encouragingly.

Penny stepped on the starter and to her relief the motor caught instantly. In great haste she turned the car around, circling away from the inrushing sea.

“Careful!” Louise warned. “The sand is dreadfully soft this far up shore.”

Too late Penny realized the same thing. She could feel the car starting to bog down. The motor began to labor. Then the car stalled completely.

“We’re stuck!” she gasped.

Both girls sprang out to look at the wheels. Their spirits sank. On one side, front and rear tires were bogged deep in sand.

“Start the engine again!” Louise urged desperately. “I’ll try to push.”

Penny obeyed, but her chum’s puny strength made not the slightest impression upon the car. It could not be moved a foot. The spinning wheels only drove deeper and deeper into the sand.

“What shall we do?” Louise asked helplessly. She turned to stare at the incoming sea. Each wave was breaking a little closer to the car.

“This place will be under in another twenty minutes,” Penny calculated. “Even if the car isn’t washed away, the salt water will ruin it. How did we ever get into such a mess?”

“Just by being careless. If only we weren’t so far from the hotel!”

“I’ll run to the lighthouse,” Penny decided desperately. “Maybe the keeper will help us.”

Both girls were badly frightened, not for their own safety, but because they feared that the car would be damaged beyond repair. Once the waves began to strike it, it would sink deeper and deeper into the sand. Salt water would corrode all of the bright chromium.

“We’ve no time to waste!” Penny cried, darting away.

The girls plunged through the sand drifts to the lighthouse. Evidently the keeper already had observed their plight, for he was standing on the upper platform peering down into the courtyard.

“Our car is stuck in the sand!” Penny shouted. “Can you help us get it out?”

“No, I can’t,” the keeper answered gruffly. “You should have watched the tide.”

“There’s no one else to help us,” Penny pleaded. “Just a little push—”

“I’m forbidden to leave my post.”

“Then will you telephone to the Inn? Or to a garage?”

“I could ’phone but it wouldn’t do any good,” the keeper said reluctantly. “Your car will be under water before a tow-car could get here.”

Exasperated by the man’s unwillingness to help, Louise and Penny ran back to the car. Already waves were lapping against the rear wheels. The situation seemed hopeless.

“Shall I try to push again?” Louise asked.

“It wouldn’t do any good. We’re not strong enough.” In desperation, Penny’s gaze wandered down the deserted shore. Suddenly she saw a lone fisherman who was wading through the surf. She recognized him as George Emory.

“He’ll help us!” she cried confidently.

The girls shouted Mr. Emory’s name. Apparently he heard, for he turned his head quickly. Their plight, they thought, must be instantly evident, but Mr. Emory did not seem to comprehend. He waved his hand as if in friendly greeting, and then, reeling in his fish line, turned and walked away from them.