Part 12 (1/2)
”I don't see how,” Frank murmured, scanning the terrain. ”There's no place for him and his horse to hide.”
The cliff walls on either side were bare and precipitous. With the moon almost directly overhead, the snow-covered floor of the canyon was revealed with brilliant clarity. The narrow riverbanks were barren of brush. Aside from a few scattered rocks -none big enough to afford cover-nothing intervened between the boys and the frozen waterfall.
”Well, he must be here somewhere,” Joe said edgily. ”His tracks will give us the answer.”
Frank agreed. The boys dismounted and moved forward cautiously, leading -their horses. Moonlight wrapped the scene in eerie loneliness. The boys kept their eyes and ears alert. Gradually they became aware of another sound-the muted roar of falling water, still flowing behind the glacier-like formation.
The sound became louder as they neared the cataract. The majestic ice curtain glittered in the moonlight.
It was fringed with great, jagged blue-white spears that hung down like stalact.i.tes.
”I don't get it,” Joe muttered. ”Al's tracks lead straight toward the waterfall!”
As they proceeded, Frank took out his flashlight, and switched it on. He gave a cry of surprise.
”Joe! He must have gone under the waterfall!”
At the base of the cliff was a dark open s.p.a.ce yawning between the curve of the falls and the rock face!
It was large enough to admit a horse and rider. The boys moved closer for a better look and Frank probed the darkness with his flashlight.
”Look! There's an opening in the cliff wall!” Joe exclaimed. ”It must be a tunnel!”
”Or maybe just a blind cavern,” Frank said, switching off his flashlight. ”Big Al could be waiting for us in there!”
After a whispered conference, Frank groped his way behind the cataract. When he reached the opening in the cliff he quickly snapped on his flashlight again for a more leisurely examination.
Presently he came back and reported to Joe. ”It's a tunnel, all right. No telling how far it goes -or where.”
”No sign of Big Al?” Joe questioned.
”Not in person, but there are wet tracks.”
The two horses balked a bit as the boys took their bridles and attempted to lead them into the dark s.p.a.ce behind the icy falls. Joe's animal, which was in the lead, whinnied and reared when it felt the splattering spray, but it soon calmed under Joe's rea.s.suring hand.
Inside the tunnel mouth the pa.s.sage widened, giving the boys room to mount. Frank and Joe rode slowly forward, with Joe, in the lead, s.h.i.+ning his flashlight.
After several hundred yards the pa.s.sage widened and the boys were able to ride side by side.
”Must have been the bed of an old underground stream,” Frank guessed. ”See how smooth the walls are worn.”
Joe nodded. ”We'd better speed up before Big Al gets too far ahead.”
Urging their horses to a faster pace, they pushed on through the tunnel. At intervals the boys stopped and listened, hoping to catch some sound of their quarry. The fourth time they halted, a faint echoing sound of horse's hoofs on rock reached their ears from somewhere ahead.
”We must be getting closer!” Joe said tensely.
Just how close was difficult to judge, since the enclosed pa.s.sage with its smooth, hard walls might carry the sound almost any distance. The boys rode on steadily. When they paused to listen once more, the hoofbeats were no longer audible. But twenty minutes later Joe thought he could detect them again.
”He may be far ahead of us,” said Frank. ”Sound can be pretty tricky in here.”
As the brothers continued along the tunnel, the chill, dank atmosphere gradually became warmer. Frank and Joe unzipped their heavy windbreakers.
After a while it became necessary to rest the horses. The Hardys did not dare pause too long for fear of losing Big Al completely, and soon went on.
The tunnel turned and twisted. The horses were nervous at first about proceeding, but gradually became accustomed to the experience.
”It seems as if we've been traveling for hours,” said Frank. Presently he snapped on his flashlight to glance at his wrist.w.a.tch. To his amazement, it was almost three-thirty in the morning! ”Whew! Do you realize the night's almost over, Joe?”
”I sure do. The horses are bushed.”
Gradually the boys became aware that the tunnel was sloping upward. The horses began to pant and labor from the steepness of the incline, and the Hardys had to rest them more frequently.
”It's getting colder in here,” Joe said with a sudden s.h.i.+ver. Both boys zipped up their jackets.
”We must be getting close to the surface,” Frank said hopefully.
Sometime later he was about to turn on his flashlight again when he paused. ”Hey! The tunnel's not so dark as it has been-or am I imagining things?”
”You're right!” Joe replied, with rising excitement. ”I'll keep my flashlight off for a while.”
Soon the boys could feel cold air on their faces. The tunnel was lightening every moment, and presently a gray glimmer of daylight showed ahead. With joyful cries of relief, Frank and Joe urged their horses forward.
In a minute or so, they had emerged onto a snow-covered mountainside. Rocks, scattered trees, and slopes all around them were bathed in the ghostly light of dawn. The Hardys leaped from their horses, stretched their tired muscles, and inhaled the fresh air deeply. Then they looked around and a.s.sessed their situation.
”There are Big Al's tracks,” Joe said, pointing them out.
Frank nodded. ”Fairly fresh, too-but he could be a good distance ahead of us.”
”Any idea where we are, Frank?”
”Not much, except that we've come clear through the mountain.” Frank grinned wryly. ”I'm famished, Joe. How about you?”
”Same here! Think we can take time to eat?”
”May as well,” Frank decided. ”No telling how long we'll be on the trail. Lucky we didn't unpack.”
The boys fed their horses, built a small fire, and had breakfast. Then they swung back into the saddles and resumed their pursuit of the outlaw. His tracks led upward onto a beaten trail winding along the mountainside.
When they reached the path, Frank reined in his mount and glanced toward a high, jutting rock formation farther up the mountain. ”Know something, Joe?” he remarked. ”I'll bet this is a continuation of Ambush Trail.”
Joe snapped his fingers. ”You're right! I remember seeing that rocky outcrop way in the distance, just before we fell into the river!”
”If this is Ambush Trail,” Frank went on, ”Big Al must be heading for their hideout on Windy Peak.”
”That figures,” Joe agreed. ”He thinks he's shaken us by going through the tunnel.”