him. Suddenly the cave seemed to be illuminated by
a dazzling light bluish in color. By it the boys could see each other
as they clung to the wall. They could see the black and swirling
waters now waist high. But they could see something else.

They could look up and out through a jagged hole in the roof of the
cavern, and through that opening they had a glimpse of the fury of the
storm. They could see the lightning flashing in the sky.

For a moment the meaning of it was lost on them. Then Frank uttered a
cry of hope.

"We're saved, Andy, saved! Now we can crawl up out of the top of the
cave and escape. The tide can't reach us now! We're saved!"

CHAPTER XXIII

TO THE RESCUE

Back in the Racer cottage there was an anxious consultation going on.
It was the afternoon of the second day since Andy and Frank had gone to
Cliff Island, and they had not returned.

"I don't like it!" exclaimed Mr. Racer, tossing aside the paper he had
been trying to read, and restlessly pacing the floor. "I wish they
hadn't gone. I wish they were back."

"Don't you think they can look after themselves?" asked the mother.
Usually she was the more nervous, but this time it was her husband.

"Oh, I suppose they could, ordinarily," he answered. "But this is
different."

"How, Dick?" and there was an anxious note in Mrs. Racer's voice. She
had just come in from a tennis tournament to find that her husband had
returned from New York earlier than usual. Now she began to realize
the cause. It was on account of the boys.

"Well, there's a storm coming up, for one thing, and then there's that
man. I wish Andy and Frank hadn't started after him."

"It was to help Paul, dear."

"I know. They meant all right, but they're too daring. However, it
can't be helped. Where's Paul?"

"He felt so well that he went for a little walk. He said he'd go down
toward the pier and see if he could see or hear anything of the boys.

"Well, I'm glad he's getting better." Mr. Racer once more tried to
read the paper, but gave it up.

"You're nervous," said his wife, as he tossed it aside.

"Yes, I am. Nothing is worse than sitting still, and waiting--waiting
for something to happen.

"Oh, Dick! I'm sure you don't want anything to happen!"

"Of course not. But I don't like this weather."

Paul came in at that moment. The glow off health was beginning to
reappear in his pale cheeks.

"Well?" asked Mr. Racer quickly.

"T