wash of the waves against the reefs. Far in the distance they could see the reflection of the lights of Bayport through the mist and once or twice they could hear the murmur of Tony's motorboat as it sped away down the bay.
"I hope they bring back lights and guns with them," muttered Frank.
"Who?"
"The police."
"Don't worry. If they get word that Snackley is cornered they'll send out a squad of militia."
The boys rounded the point and began to make their way directly along the shore of the cove. Dense thickets and bushes grew right to the water's edge and the boys were afraid of making too much noise, as they realized that the two men they had heard talking in the boat might be close by—perhaps even waiting to pounce upon them in the darkness.
Their hearts beat quickly with the knowledge of the risk they were running, but neither lad thought of turning back. They were not thinking of the smugglers alone—they were thinking of their father.
When they reached the first of the thickets they paused. They knew that the crackling of the branches would betray their whereabouts if there was any one within hearing distance. For a while they did not know just what to do.
