E-text prepared by Al Haines

FRANK AND ANDY AFLOAT

Or

The Cave on the Island

by

VANCE BARNUM

Author of "Frank and Andy at Boarding School," "Frank and Andy in a
Winter Camp," "The Joe Strong Series."

Whitman Publishing Co.
Racine, Wisconsin
Copyright, 1921, by
George Sully & Company

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. HIT BY A WHALE II. THE WRECKED MOTOR BOAT III. THE BOY'S RESCUE IV. "WHO ARE YOU?" V. SEEKING THE WRECK VI. CHET SEDLEY'S STYLE VII. A LIVELY CARGO VIII. ANDY IS CAUGHT IX. "THAR SHE BLOWS!" X. A RIVAL CLAIM XI. A FIRE ON BOARD XII. THE STRANGER AGAIN XIII. A MIDNIGHT SCARE XIV. THE WRECK AGAIN XV. ORDERED BACK XVI. ON THE SEARCH XVII. ON CLIFF ISLAND XVIII. "THERE HE IS!" XIX. IN THE CAVE XX. THE RISING TIDE XXI. DEATH IS NEAR XXII. THE STORM XXIII. TO THE RESCUE XXIV. THE ESCAPE XXV. A LUCKY QUARREL XXVI. THE PRISONER XXVII. SEARCHING THE WRECK XXVIII. BUILDING A RAFT XXIX. "SAIL HO!" XXX. THE ACCUSATION—CONCLUSION

FRANK AND ANDY AFLOAT

CHAPTER I

HIT BY A WHALE

"How about a race to the dock, Frank?"

"With whom, Andy?"

"Me, of course. I'll beat you there—loser to stand treat for the ice cream sodas. It's a hot day."

"Yes, almost too warm to do any speeding," and Frank Racer, a lad of fifteen, with a quiet look of determination on his face, rested on the oars of his skiff, and glanced across the slowly-heaving salt waves toward his brother Andy, a year younger.

"Oh, come on!" called Andy, with a laugh rippling over his tanned face.
"You're afraid I'll beat you."

"I am, eh?" and there was a grim tightening of the older lad's lips.
"Well, if you put it that way, here goes! Are you ready?"

"Just a minute," pleaded Andy, and he moved over slightly on his seat in order better to trim the boat. He took a tighter grip on the oars, and nodded toward his brother, still with that tantalizing smile on his face.

"Let her go!" he called a moment later, adding: "I can taste that chocolate soda now, Frank! Yum-yum!"

"Better save your breath for rowing," counseled Frank good-naturedly, as he bent to the ashen blades with a will.

The two boats—for each of the Racer lads had his own craft—were on a line, and were headed for a long dock that ran out into the quiet inlet of the Atlantic which washed the shores of the little settlement known as Harbor View, a fishing village about thirty miles from New York.

"Wow! Here's where I put it all over you by about six lengths!" boasted Andy Racer, paying no attention to his brother's well-meant advice, and then the two lads got into the swing of the oars, and the skiffs fairly leaped over the waves that rolled in long swells.

Both boys having spent nearly all their summer vacations at the coast resort, which was something of a residence place for summer colonists, as well as a fishing centre, were expert oarsmen, sturdy and capable of long exertion. They were nearly matched in strength, too, in spite of the difference in their ages. They had taken a long, leisurely row that summer morning and were on their way back when Andy proposed the race.

"Row! Row! Why don't you put some speed in your strokes, Frank?" called the younger brother.

"That's all right—you won't want to do any speeding by the time you get to the dock," and Frank glanced over his shoulder to where the public dock stretched out into the bay like some long water-snake. "It's nearly two miles there, and the swell is getting heavier."

Frank spoke quickly, and then relapsed into silence. It was characteristic of him to do whatever he did with all his might, while his more fun-loving brother sometimes started things and then left off, saying it was "too much trouble."

For a time Andy's skiff was in the lead, and then, as he found the exertion too much, he eased up in his strokes, and lessened the number of them.

"I thought you were going it a bit too heavy," remarked Frank, with a smile.

"Oh, you get out!" laughed Andy. "I'll beat you yet. But I like your company, that's why I let you catch up to me."

"Oh, yes!" answered Frank, half sarcastically. "But why don't you stop talking? You can't talk and row, I've told you that lots of times. That's the reason you lost that race with Bob Trent last week—you got all out of breath making fun of him."

"I was only trying to get him rattled," protested Andy.

"Well, he got the race just by sticking to it. But go on. I don't care. I'm going to win, but I don't want to take an unfair advantage of you."

"Oh, lobsters! I'm not asking for a handicap. You never can beat me in a thousand years." And, with a jolly laugh Andy began to sing:

"The stormy winds do blow—do blow,
And I a winning race will row—yo ho!
You'll come in last,
Your time is past,
Out on the briny deep, deep, deep!
Out on the briny deep!"

"All right, have your way about it," assented Frank good naturedly. "I can stand it if you can," and with that he increased his strokes by several a minute, until his skiff had shot ahead of his brother's, and was dancing over the waves that, now and then, brilliantly reflected the sun as it came from behind the fast-gathering clouds.

"Oh, so you are really going to race?" called Andy, somewhat surprised by the sudden advantage secured by his brother. "Well, two can play at that game," and he, also, hit up the pace until in front of both boats there was a little smother of foam, while the green, salty water swirled and sparkled around the blades of the broad ashen oars, for the boys did not use the spoon style.

For perhaps two minutes both rowed on in silence, and it was so quiet, not a breath of wind stirring, that each one could hear the labored breathing of the other. The pace was beginning to tell, for, though Frank was not over-anxious to make record time to the dock, he was not going to let his brother beat him, if he could prevent it.

"I shouldn't wonder but what there'd be a storm," spoke Andy again, after a pause. He couldn't keep quiet for very long at a time.

"Um," was all the reply Frank made.

"What's the matter; lost your tongue overboard?" questioned Andy with a chuckle.

Frank did not reply.

"I'm going to pass you," called the younger brother a moment later when, by extreme exertion, he had regained the place he had held, with the bow of his craft in line with Frank's. Then Andy fairly outdid himself, for, though Frank was rowing hard, his brother suddenly shot ahead.

"It's about time you did some rowing," was Frank's quiet remark, and then he showed that he still had some power in reserve, for he caught up to his brother, and held his place there with seeming ease, though Andy did not let up in the furious pace he had set.

"Oh, what's the use of killing yourself?" at length the younger lad fairly panted. "It's—it's farther than I thought."

He began losing distance, but Frank, too, had no liking for the fast clip, so he, likewise, rowed slower until the two boats were on even terms, bobbing over the long ground swell that seemed to be getting heavier rapidly.

From time to time one brother or the other glanced over his shoulder, not so much to set his course, for they could do that over the stern, having previously taken their range, but in order to note the aspect of the fast-gathering clouds which were behind them.

The wind, which had died out shortly after they had started on their row that morning, now sprang up in fitful gusts, with a rather uncanny, moaning sound, as if it was testing its strength before venturing to develop into a howling storm.

"Don't you think it's going to kick up a rumpus?" asked Andy, tired of keeping quiet.

"Um," spoke Frank again, for his breath was needed to keep up his speed in the swells.

"There you go again—old silent-face!" and Andy laughed to take the sting out of his words. "Your tongue will get so tired being still so long that it won't know how to wiggle when you want it."

Frank smiled, and glanced over his shoulder again. He noted that the dock, which was their goal, was now a little more than half a mile distant. He could see several fishing boats and other craft making for the more sheltered part of the harbor. Frank was calculating the space yet to be covered, to decide when he should begin the final spurt, for, though the race was only a friendly one, such as he and his brother often indulged in, yet he wanted to win it none the less. He decided that it would not do to hit up the pace to the limit just yet.

"It's a heap sight longer than I thought it was," came from Andy, after a bit. "What say we call it off?"

"Not on your life!" exclaimed Frank vigorously. "I'm going to finish whether you do or not—but you have to buy the sodas if I do."

"I will not. I'll finish, too, and I'll beat you."

Once more came a period of silent rowing. Then, whether it was because he pulled more strongly on one oar than on the other, or because of the drift of the current, and the effect of the wind, the younger lad suddenly found himself close to the boat of his brother.

At that moment Frank had once more turned to look at the dock, and Andy could not resist the chance to play a little trick on him. Skillfully judging the distance, he suddenly swept back his left oar, so that the flat blade caught the crest of a long roller and a salty spray flew in a shower over Frank.

"What's that—rain?" Frank cried, turning quickly.

He saw the laughing face of his brother, and guessed what had happened.

"I thought this was a rowing race, not a splashing contest!" he cried good-naturedly.

"It's both," was the answer. Then, though Frank kept on vigorously swinging the oars, Andy paused, rested on the ashen blades, and, holding the handles of both under his left palm for a moment, he pointed out to sea with his right hand, and cried:

"Look! What's that out there, Frank?"

"Oh, ho! No you don't! You don't catch me that way—pretending to show me a sea serpent!" objected the older lad.

"No, really, there's something there—something big and humpy—it's moving, too! Don't you see it? Look, right in line with the Eastern Spit Lighthouse! See!"

Andy stood up in his boat, skillfully balancing himself against the rolling swell, and pointed out to sea. His manner was so earnest that, in spite of the many times he had joked with his brother, Frank ceased rowing and peered to where the extended finger of the younger lad indicated something unusual.

"Smoked star fish! You're right!" agreed Frank, forgetting all about the race now, and standing up in his craft, in order to get a better view.

"What is it?" cried Andy. "A floating wreck?"

"That's no wreck," declared Frank.

"Then what is it?"

"It's a whale, if I'm any judge. A whale, and a big one, too!"

"Dead?"

"I guess so. No—by Jupiter! It's alive, Andy, and it's coming this way!"

"Cracky! If we only had a harpoon or a bomb gun now, that would be the end of Mr. Whale. Let's row out and meet him!"

"Say, are you crazy?" demanded Frank, with some heat.

"Crazy? No; why?"

"Wanting to tackle a whale in these boats! We'd be swamped in a minute! We'd better pull out to one side. Most likely the whale will keep on a straight course, though he'll be stranded if he goes much farther in. The tide's out, and it's shallow here. Pull to one side, Andy—the race is off. Pull out, I tell you!" and Frank swung his skiff around with sudden energy.

"I am not! I'm going to get a nearer view of the whale!" cried Andy. "Maybe he's hurt, or perhaps there's a harpoon with a line fast to it in him. We might get hold of it and—"

"Yes, and go to kingdom come. Nixy! Get out of the way while you've got time. Jinks! He's coming on faster than ever!"

Frank's manner so impressed his brother that the younger lad now began to swing his craft around. They could both see the whale plainly now, even while sitting down, for the great sea animal was nearer.

Then, whether it was some sudden whim, or because he saw the boats and took them for natural enemies, there was a sudden swirling of water and the whale increased his speed, heading straight for the two skiffs that were now almost touching side by side.

"He's coming!" yelled Andy.

"I told you he was!" cried Frank. "Row! Row! Get out of the way!"

This was more easily said than done. In vain did the lads pull frantically on their oars. The whale was now coming on with the speed of an express train. He was headed right for the two boats!

"Pull out! Pull out!" shouted Andy. "He may go between us then!"

It was good advice, and Frank, who was a little the better rower, started to follow it.

But it was too late. On came the monster of the deep, his great head throwing up a huge wave in front of him. Andy was rowing as hard as was his brother until he suddenly jumped his left oar out of the oarlock. In another moment it had gone overboard.

This seemed to attract the attention of the whale to the skiff of the younger lad. The monster might have thought that the occupant of the boat was trying to hurl a harpoon.

Suddenly changing his course, the leviathan, which had been headed for
Frank's craft, now turned toward Andy's.

"Look out!" frantically shouted the older lad.

"I can't! He's got me!" screamed Andy.

The next instant there was a splintering, crashing and rending of wood. A shower of spray flew high in the air. Frank's boat rocked on the heavy swell caused by the flukes of the whale, as they went deep into the water after delivering a glancing blow upon the unfortunate Andy's skiff.

Frank had a momentary glance of his brother's boat, with one side smashed down to the water's edge. He saw the green sea pouring in, and he saw Andy standing up, ready to leap overboard. He saw the maddened monster sheering off out to sea again, and then Frank cried:

"I'm coming, Andy! I'm coming! I'll save you! Hold on to your boat!
Don't jump!"

The whale disappeared in a smother of foam, as Frank, with desperate energy, bent to his oars and swung his boat in the direction of the sinking one containing his brother.

CHAPTER II

THE WRECKED MOTOR BOAT

"Hold on, Andy! Hold on! You'll float for a while yet!" called Frank, while he threw all his strength upon the oars in the endeavor to reach his brother. He cast anxious eyes about, fearing a return of the whale, but there was no sign of the big creature.

"All right—take your time!" called Andy. "I can keep afloat for quite a while yet. Maybe I won't sink after all."

"I'm not taking any chances," returned Frank, and then he swung his craft up alongside that of his brother. As Andy had said, his skiff was in pretty good condition. This was due to two causes. The blow of the whale's tail had been a glancing one, and the skiff had an unusually high freeboard, so that though it was splintered down to the water edge, not much of the sea had entered.

"I believe she'll float when I'm out of it so she'll ride higher," declared the younger lad. "Take me into your boat, and maybe we can tow mine in and fix it up. It's too good to lose."

"That's right. Wow! But you had a narrow escape!" and Frank looked very grave as he assisted his brother into the undamaged craft. "I thought it was all up with you."

"So did I, when I saw that beast coming for me. But he sheered off just in time. Then I felt sure my boat would fill and sink in an instant, when I saw the water pouring in, after he swiped me, so I got ready to jump. I didn't want to be carried down with it."

"That's right. Say, that's cut through as clean as if done with a knife," and Frank looked at the slash in the side of his brother's boat. It was indeed a sharp cut, and showed with what awful force the tail of the monster must have descended.

"As much water came pouring in over the side as there did through the hole," went on Andy. "That's what gave me a scare. But did you see the harpoon in that whale?"

"No, was there one?"

"Sure as you're a foot high. There was a short piece of line fast to it, and the whale had a big hole in his side. He's been wounded, probably by a steamer's propeller after he was harpooned up north, or else that's the wound of a bomb gun. I could see it quite plainly."

"Yes, you had a nearer view than I'd want," observed Frank, as he made fast Andy's boat to the stern of his own. As the younger lad had said, his skiff, now that it was higher in the water, because his weight was out of it, took in very little of the sea.

"I guess we can tow it if we bail out," observed Frank. "Are you very wet?"

"Not much—only up to my knees. I was just going to jump in and swim for it when you called to me. Well, here goes for bailing."

"Yes, and if you shift that anchor back to the stern it will raise the bow, and the hole will be so much more out of water. It'll row easier, too."

"Right you are, my hearty. Shiver my timbers! But it's some excitement we've been having!" and Andy laughed.

"Say, I believe you'd joke if your boat was all smashed to pieces, and you were floating around on the back of the whale," observed Frank gravely.

"Of course I would. A miss is as good as a mile and a half. But if I can find my other oar I'll help you row in your boat. It ought to be somewhere around here," and Andy ceased his bailing operations to cast anxious looks over the rolling waves.

"Yes, we'll look for it after we get some of the water out of your craft. I can't get over what a close call you had," and, in spite of the fact that he had been in many dangerous places in his life, Frank could not repress a shudder.

"Oh, forget it!" good-naturedly advised Andy, vigorously tossing water out of his boat with a tin can. "Hello! There's my lost oar out there. Put me over."

"All right," agreed Frank. "I think we've got enough water out so she'll ride high. Now for the dock."

"I guess you'll win the race," observed the younger lad, half regretfully, as he recovered his ashen blade.

"Oh, we'll call it off," said Frank good-naturedly. "We'll have something to tell the folks when we get back to the cottage; eh?"

"I guess. But are you going right home?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, I thought we might row in, and take out our sail boat. I'd like to have another try for that whale. We might get him, and there's money to be made."

"Say, do you mean to tell me you'd take another chance with that whale?" demanded Frank, as he prepared to row.

"Of course I would! It would be safe enough in our catboat. He'd never attack that. We could take our rifles along and maybe plug him. Think of hunting for whales! Cricky! That would be sport!" and Andy sighed regretfully, He seemed to have forgotten the narrow escape he had just experienced. "Come on, let's do it, Frank," he urged. "Don't go up to our cottage at all. If you do mother will be sure to see me all wet. Then she'll want to know how it happened, and the whale will be out of the bag, and we can't go. Let's start right out in the Gull as soon as we hit the pier. There won't be any danger, and we might sight the whale. He must be nearly dead by this time."

"I wonder if we could find him," mused Frank.

"Sure!" exclaimed his impulsive brother. "It will be great. There's
some grub aboard the Gull and we can stay out until nearly dark.
Mother doesn't expect us home to dinner, as we said we might go to
Seabright. Come on!"

"Well, if you feel able, after—"

"Pshaw! I'm as fit as a fiddle. Let's hit it up, and get to the dock as soon as we can. Think of landing a whale!"

"Or of being lambasted by one," added Frank grimly. Nevertheless, he fell in with his brother's plan, as he usually did. The two boys rowed steadily toward the pier, towing the damaged boat. They were very much in earnest.

In fact, though of different characters, the brothers were very much alike in one trait—they always liked to be doing things. Their name fitted them to perfection; they were "Racers" by title and nature, though Andy was the quicker and more impulsive.

They were the sons of Mr. Richard Racer, a wealthy wholesale silk merchant of New York City. Mr. Racer owned a neat cottage at Harbor View, and his summers were spent there. His wife, Olivia, was a lady fond of society, and when she closed her handsome house in New York, to go to the coast resort for the summer, she transferred her activities there.

While in the metropolis Mrs. Racer spent much time at charitable organizations, and at Harbor View she was a moving spirit in the ladies' tennis and golf clubs.

Mr. Racer traveled back and forth from New York to Harbor View each day during the summer, for his business needed much of his attention. His vacation, however, was an unbroken series of days of pleasure at the coast resort where he and his wife and sons enjoyed life to the utmost.

The two boys had spent so many summers at Harbor View that they were almost as well known there as some of the permanent residents, and they had many friends among the seafaring folk, especially in the lads. They had one or two enemies, as will develop presently, not through any fault of their own, but because certain lads were jealous of our heroes.

"Well, we're here," announced Frank at last, as he swung the boat up alongside the landing stage which rose and fell with the tide.

"And it's a good wind coming up," observed Andy. "We can make good time out in the Gull."

"Maybe we'd better beach your boat before we go out, and pull it above high-water mark," suggested Frank. "Some of the seams may have been opened, as well as this hole being in her, and she might sink."

"Good idea. We'll do it."

As the brothers were ascending the gangway from the float to the pier, preparatory to going out in their sailing craft, they were hailed by an elderly man, whose grizzled, tanned face gave evidence of many days spent on the water under a hot sun.

"Where you boys bound fer now?" the sailor demanded.

"Oh, we're just going out for a little sail, Captain Trent," replied
Andy.

"Better not," was the quick advice.

"Why?" Frank wanted to know.

"It's coming on to blow, and it's going to blow hard. Hear that wind?" and the captain, whose son Bob was quite a chum of the Racer boys, inclined his grizzled head toward the quarter whence the breeze came.

"Oh, that's only a cat's paw," declared Andy.

"You'll find it'll turn out to be a reg'lar tomcat 'fore you're through with it," predicted the old salt. "But what happened to your boat, Andy? I see you've got a hole stove in her. Did you run on the rocks?"

"No, something ran into us," replied Frank quickly. "Don't say anything to him about the whale," he remarked to his brother in a low voice.

"What's that about a sail?" demanded the captain, catching some of
Frank's words.

"We're going for a sail," spoke Andy quickly. "Come on, Frank."

"Better not!" again cautioned Captain Trent. But our heroes were no different from other boys, and did not heed the warning. Had they done so perhaps this story would not have been written, for the events following their sail that day were unusual, and had a far-reaching effect.

"Come on!" called Andy sharply to his brother, as he saw the captain making ready to start a discussion about the weather. Mr. Trent might also ask more questions about the damaged boat, and neither Andy nor his brother wanted to answer—just yet.

Five minutes later saw the two brothers sailing away from the pier. The breeze was getting stronger every moment, until the rail of their trim boat was under water part of the time.

"Say, it is blowing!" declared Frank.

"Oh, what of it? The Gull can stand more than this. Besides we're safe in the harbor, and we may soon sight the whale. Keep a good lookout!"

For some time they sailed on, each one scanning the expanse of the bay, which was now dotted here and there with whitecaps. The boat was heeling over almost too much for comfort.

"Hadn't we better turn back?" asked Frank, after a period of silence, broken only by the swish of the water.

"Of course not," declared the more daring Andy. "It was about here that my boat was stove in. The whale may be around these diggings looking for us."

"Likely—not!" exclaimed Frank decidedly.

There came a fiercer gust of wind, and it fairly howled through the rigging. The waters whitened with spray and foam.

"It's a squall!" yelled Frank. "Better turn back."

"We can't now," shouted Andy at the top of his voice, to make himself heard above the howling of the wind. "We'd better keep on to Seabright. We can lay over there until this blows by. See anything of the whale?"

"No. It's useless to look for him. I'm going to take a reef in the sail."

"That's right. I guess you'd better shorten some of our canvas. I'll hold her as steady as I can while you're doing it. Or shall I lash the helm and help you?"

"No, you stay there. I can manage it."

The storm increased in sudden fury, and it was no easy task to shorten sail with the pressure of the wind on it. But Frank Racer had considerable skill in handling boats, and with his brother at the helm, to ease off when he gave the word, he managed to cast off the throat and peak lines, lower the gaff and sail, and then take a double reef in the canvas.

Even under the smaller spread the Gull shot along over the foam-crested waves like some speeding motor boat. Andy was so taken up with watching his brother, and in aiding him as much as he could by shifting the helm as was needful, that he did not look ahead for several minutes. He was recalled to this necessary duty by a sudden, frightened cry from Frank.

"The rocks! Look out for the rocks!" shouted the older lad. "We'll be on 'em in a second! Port your helm! Port!"

Andy desperately threw over the tiller, and with fear-blanched face he looked to where his brother pointed. Amid a smother of white foam, almost dead ahead and scarcely two cable lengths away there showed the black and jagged points of rocks, known locally as the "Shark's Teeth." The Gull was headed straight for them.

Anxiously, and with strained eyes, the brothers looked to see if their boat would answer her rudder. For a moment or two she hung in the balance, the howling wind driving her nearer the rocks, to strike upon which meant sure destruction in the now boiling sea.

Then, with a feeling of relief, Andy saw that they were sheering off, but very slowly. Could they make it? They were near to death, for no one—not even the strongest swimmer—could live long unaided in that boiling sea that would pound him upon the sharp rocks.

Suddenly Frank uttered a cry, and pointed to a spot at the left of the rocks, in a space of water comparatively calm.

"There! Look! Look!" he shouted.

"What is it? The whale?" demanded Andy.

"No, a boat—a motor boat! It's disabled—drifting! It must have been on the rocks. It's a large one, too. Look out you don't hit it."

"It's on fire!" cried Andy. "See the smoke—the flame! It's burning up!"

The Gull was now far enough from the Shark's Teeth to warrant her safety, and the boys could look at the motor craft, that was bobbing helplessly about in the spume and spray, being tossed hither and thither by the heaving waves.

"See anybody on her?" yelled Andy.

"No—not a soul," answered Frank, who had made his way forward, and was standing up, clinging to the mast.

Suddenly, amid the howling of the storm, there came a sharp explosion. There was a puff of flame, and a cloud of smoke hovered over the hapless motor boat, which, strange to say, still remained intact and afloat.

"She's blown up! Exploded!" yelled Andy.

"Yes, and there's a boy in the water! Look!" fairly screamed Frank. "He was on the boat! The explosion must have blown him out! He's floating! We must save him, Andy!"

"Sure! Jupiter's lobsters! but things are happening to us to-day!
Look out! I'm going to put about!"

Frank scrambled back to join his brother. The big boom with its shortened sail swung over, and, heeling under the force of the shrieking wind, the Gull darted toward the dangerous rocks once more. Toward the wrecked motorboat, toward the figure of the boy floating in the smother of foaming and storm-torn waves she swept.

Could they reach the helpless lad in time? It was the question uppermost in the hearts of Frank and Andy Racer.

CHAPTER III

THE BOY'S RESCUE

"Can we make it, Frank?" questioned Andy desperately.

"We've got to," came the quick answer. "Ease her off a little until I get the lay of things."

"Is he swimming?" demanded the younger lad.

"Yes, but only with one hand. He must be injured. He can just manage to keep afloat. Put in a little closer. We've passed the worst of the Teeth. It's deep water here, isn't it?"

"Yes, as near as I can tell. I haven't been here very often. It's too dangerous, even in calm weather, to say nothing of a storm."

The wind was now a gale, but the boys had their sailboat well in hand and were managing her skillfully. They came nearer to the feebly swimming lad.

"There he goes—he's sunk—he's under!" yelled Andy, peering beneath the boom.

"Too bad!" muttered Frank. "We're too late!"

Eagerly he looked into the tumult of waters Then he uttered a joyful cry.

"There he is again! He's a plucky one. We must get him, Andy!"

"But how? I daren't steer in any closer or I'll have a hole in us and we'll go down."

"We've got to save the poor fellow. I wonder who he is?"

"It's tough," murmured Andy. "See, the fire on the motor boat seems to be out."

"Yes, probably the explosion blew it out. The boat floats well. Maybe we can save that."

"Got to get this poor boy first. Oh, if he could only swim out a little farther we could throw him a line. Hey there!" he called to the lad, "we're coming! Can you make your way over here? We daren't come in any closer."

There was no answer, but the desperately struggling lad waved his one good arm to show that he had heard. Then he resumed his battle with the sea—an unequal battle.

"Plucky boy!" murmured Frank. "I'm going to save him. He can never swim out this far."

Andy had thrown the boat up in the wind, had lowered the sail so that she was now riding the waves comparatively motionless, for there came a lull in the gale.

Then, even as Frank spoke, the unfortunate lad again disappeared from sight.

"He's gone—for good this time I guess," spoke Andy, and there was a solemn note in his faltering voice.

"No! There he is again!" fairly yelled Frank. "I'm going overboard for him."

"You can't swim in this sea!" objected his brother. "There'll be two drowned instead of one."

"I can do it!" firmly declared the older lad. He began to take off his shoes, and divest himself of his heavier garments.

"You're crazy!" cried Andy. "You can't do it!"

"Just you watch," spoke Frank calmly. "I can't stand by and see a lad drown like that. Have we a spare line aboard?"

"Yes, plenty. It's up forward in the port locker under the deck."

"Good. Now I'm going to tie a line around my waist, and go overboard. I'll swim to that chap and get a good hold on him. Then it will be up to you to pull us both in, if I can't swim with him, and I'm afraid I can't do much in this sea. Can you haul us in, and manage the boat?"

"I've just got to!" cried Andy, shutting his teeth in grim determination. "The boat will ride all right out here. The wind isn't quite so bad now. Take care of yourself."

"I will. Shake!"

The brothers clasped hands. Frank well knew the peril of his undertaking, no less than did Andy. They stood on the heaving, sloping deck of the Gull, and looked into each other's eyes. They understood.

"Watch close, and pull when you see me wave to you," ordered the older lad, as he fastened the rope about his waist.

"All right," answered Andy, in a low voice.

With a quick glance about him, noting that the wounded lad was still struggling feebly in the water, Frank dived overboard. He disappeared beneath the green waves with their crests of foam, and for a moment Andy anxiously watched for his brother. Then he saw him reappear, and strike out strongly toward the other youth. Frank was an excellent swimmer.

"That's the way to do it!" murmured Andy, admiringly. "If anybody can save him, Frank can."

The younger lad was braced against the tiller, standing in a slanting position, his feet planted firmly in the cockpit, while he payed out the rope, one end of which was about Frank's waist, and the other made fast to a deck cleat.

"To the left. To the left!" yelled Andy suddenly, as he saw his brother taking a slightly wrong course. The spume in his eyes, and the bobbing waves which now and then hid the wounded lad from sight, had confused Frank. The latter made no reply, but his hand, raised above the water, and waved to Andy, told that he understood the hail.

Frank changed his course, still swimming strongly. The wind had again begun to blow hard, and the Gull was drifting nearer the rocks, yet Andy dared not send her out for fear of pulling Frank with him. He must stand by until—

Carefully he payed out the line. He could see it slipping through the green water. Then he caught a glimpse of his brother on the crest of a wave. The next moment he saw how close he was to the lad he had so bravely set out to save.

"Tread water! Don't swim! Tread water and save your strength!" cried
Andy to the injured one. The boy heard and obeyed.

In another moment Frank was near enough to clasp the almost exhausted lad in his strong right arm. Andy saw this and there was no need for the signal which his brother gave an instant later. Frank was on his guard lest the youth he was rescuing might clasp him in a death grip. But the latter evidently knew something about life saving, for he placed his uninjured hand on his rescuer's shoulder and let Frank do as he would.

Andy began to haul in on the rope. It was hard work to do this, and manage the boat at the same time, but he did it somehow—how he never could really tell afterward. But he had something of his brother's grim determination and that was just what was needed in this emergency.

Slowly the rope came in, pulling the rescuer and the rescued one. Without it that life could never have been saved, for the waves were running high, and there was a current setting in toward the sharp, black rocks.

Foot by foot Frank and his almost unconscious burden were pulled toward the Gull.

"Can you keep up?" asked the elder Race lad.

"I—I guess—so," was the faint reply.

"We'll be there in a minute now. You'll soon be all right!"

The other did not answer. Valiantly Andy hauled in, until his brother's head was right under the rail.

"I'll take him now," called Andy, as he let go of the tiller, and reached for the lad Frank had saved. With a strong heave Andy got him over the side. He slumped down into the cockpit, unconscious. A moment later Frank clambered on board and quickly untied the rope from his waist.

"Quick, Andy!" he cried. "Mind your helm! We're drifting on the rocks again!"

"Look out for this lad. I'll steer clear!" yelled his brother in reply, as he sprang back the tiller, after hoisting the sail.

Frank lifted the unconscious form in his arms, and moved the wounded lad over to a pile of tarpaulins. With all his strength Andy forced over the tiller, for the wind was strong on the sail, and the waves were running high, their salty crests filling the atmosphere with spume, while a fine spray drenched those aboard the Gull.

Suddenly there was a scraping sound, and the little craft shivered from stem to stern.

"The rocks! The rocks! We're on the rocks!" cried Frank, as with blanched face he looked up from where he was kneeling over the silent form of the lad he had rescued from the sea and the gale.

CHAPTER IV

"WHO ARE YOU?"

For a moment terror held the Racer boys motionless. The danger had come so suddenly that it deprived them of the power to think. Then came the reaction, and they were themselves once more.

"Quick! Throw your helm over! We can just make it!" yelled Frank.
"I'll attend to the sheet—you manage the tiller! Lively now!"

Andy needed no second command. He fairly threw himself at the helm, and with all his strength forced it hard over. The shortened sail rounded out with the pressure of the wind on it, and the Gull heeled over at dangerous angle. Under her keel came that ominous scraping sound that told of her passage over part of the Shark's Teeth.

"It's a submerged rock!" shouted Andy. "We may scrape over it!"

"Let's hope so!" murmured Frank, as he looked hastily down at the unconscious form of the strange lad. Then he gave all his attention to the rope that controlled the end of the swinging boom.

With the same suddenness that it had come upon them, the danger was past. The Gull slid into deep water, and the hearts of the boys beat in glad relief. Rapidly the craft paid off until she was well away from the ugly black points that could be seen, now and then, rearing up amid a smother of foam.

"Round about and beat for home!" yelled Frank. "Whoever this fellow is, he needs a doctor right away. I hope the wind holds out."

"Did you learn who he was?" asked Andy, as he gave his attention to putting the boat on the proper course.

"No. How could I? He was as weak as a cat when I got to him, but he had sense enough not to grab me. He knows how to swim all right, but something is the matter with his left arm."

"Think it's broken?"

"I don't know. It's a wonder he wasn't killed when that boat blew up.
He must have been hurt in some way, or he wouldn't be unconscious."

"Maybe it's because he's nearly drowned. He may be half full of water."

"That's so," agreed Frank. "I'll see what I can do for him while you steer. Make all you can on each tack."

They were fast leaving behind them the wrecked motor boat which bobbed about on the waves. It was no longer on fire, and the brothers would liked to have towed it to the pier, but this was impossible in the storm.

Then, as his brother skillfully managed the sailboat, Frank once more bent over the unconscious form. He knew what to do in giving first aid to partly drowned persons, and lost no time in going through the motions designed to rid the lungs of water.

Frank did succeed in getting some fluid from the system of the stranger, but the lad still remained unconscious, with such a pale face, with tightly closed eyes, and showing such apparent weakness, that Andy remarked:

"I guess he's done for, poor fellow!"

"I'm not so sure of that," responded Frank "He's still breathing, and there's a spark of life in him yet. We must get him to our house, and have a doctor right away. Oh! now's the time I wish we had a motor boat!"

"We're doing pretty well," declared Andy, And indeed the Gull was skimming along at a rapid rate. She was quartering the wind, until a sudden lull in the gale came. They hung there for a moment or two, and the brothers looked anxiously at each other. Were they to be becalmed when it was so vitally necessary to get the stranger to a doctor immediately?

But once more the sail swelled out, and with joy the Racer boys noticed that the wind was now right astern and that they could run down to the dock on the wings of it, making an almost straight course.

"This is the stuff!" cried Frank, as he made a sort of pillow from some sail cloth for the sufferer's head.

"It sure is. We'll be there soon. You'd better get some of your clothes on before we land."

Frank slipped on his garments, over his wet underwear and trusted to the wind to dry him before reaching home.

"I wonder who he can be?" mused Andy. "He wears good clothes, and if he owns that wrecked motor boat he must have money, for it was a big one, and cost a lot."

"It sure did. Well, we may find out who he is when he comes to, after the doctor has seen him. We'll take him up to our house."

"Of course. There's no other place for him in Harbor View. We'll be at the dock in five minutes more."

The rest of the trip was quickly covered, and, a little later, the two brothers had run their craft right up to the float, made her fast and began lifting out the unconscious form of the lad they had saved.

"Avast there! What ye got?" cried the hearty voice of Captain Trent.
"Is he dead? Who is he?" He peered down over the pier railing.

"We don't know," answered Frank to both questions. "He was in a motor boat—wrecked—it blew up—we saved him."

"By Davy Jones! Ye don't mean it! Wa'al, I'll give you a hand."

With the old salt's aid the boy was soon lifted up to the pier. Then
Frank asked:

"Where's your horse and wagon, Captain? We can never carry him to our house without something like that. Where's the wagon?"

"Bob jest got back from delivering clams in it. I'll go clean it out—the hoss is hitched to it yet, an'——"

"Don't bother to clean it!" interrupted Andy. "Just put some sail cloth in the bottom. It doesn't matter if it's dirty. Every second counts now. Get the wagon."

"Right away!" cried the old sailor, who did a general clamming and fish business. He hurried off in the direction of his store and stable, impressed by the words and energetic actions of the Racer boys. "Hi there, Bob!" the captain called to his son, whom he saw approaching. "Bring Dolly an' the rig here as quick as you can! Frank an' Andy Racer went out an' brought back a dead motor boat—leastways I mean a fellow that was nearly killed in one. Bring up the rig jest as she is! Lively!"

"Aye, aye!" answered Bob, seaman fashion.

A minute later a nondescript vehicle, drawn by a big but bony horse rattled up, driven by the captain's son.

"What's up?" asked Bob Trent of the lads, with whom he was quite friendly. "Who is he?"

"That's what we'd like to know," spoke Frank. "We may find out if he doesn't die. We've no time to spare."

They lifted the unconscious form into the wagon, on the bottom of which had been spread a number of old sails.

"I'll drive," said Bob briefly. "I can get more out of Dolly than most folks. You've got to do your best now, old girl," he called to the horse. The animal pricked up her ears.

"I'll ride in back and hold his head," volunteered Frank. "Andy, you go telephone for Dr. Martin. Tell him to get to our house as soon as possible—explain why. Have him there by the time we arrive, if possible."

"Right!" cried Andy sharply, and he raced off toward the nearest telephone, there being a few of the instruments in Harbor View.

"Wa'll, I'll be jib-boomed!" exclaimed Captain Trent, as his son drove off, the horse making good time. "Them Racer boys is allers up to suthin' or other."

Bob spoke the truth when he said he could do better with Dolly than most drivers, for the steed started out at a fast pace, and kept it up until the rickety vehicle turned into the drive that led to the handsome cottage owned by Mr. Racer. Mrs. Racer hurried to the door as she heard the sound of wheels, and at the sight of Frank sitting in the wagon, holding the head of another lad in his lap, Mrs. Racer cried out:

"Oh, Frank! What has happened? Is—Is it—Andy? Is he—is he——?" she could say no more, and began crying.

"It's all right, mother!" shouted Frank heartily. "We rescued an unknown lad. Andy has gone to telephone for Dr. Martin. He ought to be here now. Tell Mary to get some hot water ready. We may need it. Lay out some blankets. Get a bed ready, mother."

Frank issued his requests as if he had been used to saving drowned persons every day. His crisp words had the effect of restoring Mrs. Racer to her usual calmness.

"I'll attend to everything," she said. "Oh, the poor fellow! Bring him right in here. Can you and Bob lift him?"

"I think so," answered the captain's sturdy son.

"Oh, why doesn't Dr. Martin come?" cried Mrs. Racer.

"That sounds like his auto now!" exclaimed Frank, as he and Bob carried the unknown lad into the house. "Yes," he added a moment later, "here he comes."

"And Andy's with him," added Bob. "The doctor must have picked him up on the way here."

It was the work of but a few moments to get most of the unconscious youth's clothes off and place him in bed. By that time the physician was ready to begin his ministrations.

"I don't know," mused Dr. Martin, as he felt of the feeble, flickering pulse, and listened to the scarcely audible breathing. "He's pretty far gone. Hurt internally, I imagine. But we'll see if we can save him."

With the eager and able assistance of the Racer boys, their mother and
Bob Trent, Dr. Martin labored hard to restore the lad to consciousness.
At first his efforts seemed of no avail. His eyes remained closed, and
the pulse and breathing seemed to grow more feeble.

"I think I'll try the electric battery," said the doctor finally. "If one of you will bring it in from my auto, I'll see what effect that has."

"I'll get it!" cried Andy, and he fairly ran out and back.

For a time it looked as if even the powerful current would be useless, but when the doctor turned it on full strength there was a convulsive shudder of the body. Then, suddenly the eyes opened, and the voice of the rescued lad murmured:

"It's cold—the water—Oh! The gasolene tank! It will explode! I can't get away now! I must jump!"

He raised himself in bed, but the doctor gently pressed him back.

"There, there now," spoke the physician soothingly. "You are all right. Don't worry. You'll be all right."

"He's going to live," said Andy softly.

Once more the tired eyes closed, and then opened again.

"Where—where am I?" asked the lad wildly.

He looked about the room in amazement, and once more tried to get out of bed, but was restrained.

"You're with friends," said Mrs. Racer softly. "You will be well taken care of."

"What—what place is this?" gasped the lad.

"Harbor View," replied Frank promptly. "Who are you?"

Eagerly they all leaned forward, for they wanted to solve the mystery of the identity of the rescued lad. He gazed at them all in turn. A half smile played about his face. Then he said weakly:

"I am——"

He sank back upon the bed unconscious, his name unspoken.

CHAPTER V

SEEKING THE WRECK

For a moment there was silence in the room, and something like a disappointed sigh came from Frank and his brother. Andy leaned over the bed.

"Who are you?" he asked, placing his hand on the head of the lad. "Can't you tell us who you are, or where you live? We want to help you. How did you come to be in the boat alone? How did it get on fire?"

There was no response.

"It is useless to question him," said Dr. Martin. "I will give him some medicine, now that he is partially restored to consciousness, and perhaps when he is stronger he can tell who he is. In the meanwhile it will be best not to bother him."

The boys took this as a hint that they had better leave the room, so the three of them filed silently out to permit of the physician and Mrs. Racer continuing their efforts to bring the lad out of the stupor into which he had fallen.

"It's a queer case," mused Frank.

"It sure is," agreed his brother. "I hope he doesn't die before we find out who he is, or where he belongs."

"I hope he doesn't die at all," put in his brother quickly.

"Oh, of course," assented Frank. "So do I."

"Could you make out any name on the motor boat?" inquired Bob.

"Didn't have a chance," answered the older Racer lad. "Andy and I had our hands full managing our boat, and, when I went overboard I had to depend on Andy to pull that lad and me back. The sea was fierce and it was blowing great guns. All I know is that it was a fine boat, and it's a shame it was wrecked on the Shark's Teeth."

"She'll go to pieces if she stays there long," was Bob's opinion. "The bottom will be pounded out of her and she'll go down."

"Your father was right about the storm coming up," said Frank, after a pause. "I never saw it blow so hard in such a short time."

"Oh, dad can generally be depended on for a weather guess," said the son proudly. "Well, I must be getting back. Got to put on another load of clams before supper. Let me know how that chap makes out, will you?"

"Sure," assented Frank. "And if you see or hear anything of that motor boat up or down the coast, let us know. Maybe we can save it, and find out something about this boy from it, in case he isn't able to tell."

"I'll do it," promised the captain's son.

"And if you see a wounded whale, it belongs to us," added Andy.

"A wounded whale?" gasped Bob. "Are you stuffing me? This isn't
Thanksgiving."

"It was a whale all right," went on Andy, playfully poking his brother in the ribs, "and it stove in my boat. If I could catch the beggar I'd sell his hide or oil or whatever is valuable about him, and get a new boat."

"Does he mean it?" asked Bob, turning to Frank, for the younger Racer lad was well known for his practical jokes and his fun-loving characteristics.

"Yes, we did get rammed by one just before we went out in the Gull," said Frank, a bit solemnly, for the events of the past few hours had made quite an impression on him. Then he briefly told the story of the monster's attack.

"We didn't say anything to your father about it when we came in," explained Andy, "as we didn't want to be delayed. But if you see or hear of that whale, don't forget he belongs to us."

"I won't," declared Bob. "Now I've got to hustle, as it's almost supper time."

"Supper!" cried Andy. "That reminds me, we haven't had dinner yet,
Frank."

"My stomach reminded me of that some time ago," declared the brother.
"We had such a strenuous time that it slipped our minds, I guess. But
I'm going to make up for it now. So long, Bob; see you later."

"So long."

Then, as the rickety wagon was driven away Frank and Andy went in the house to change their wet garments.

The two brothers were tiptoeing their way to the room where the wounded lad lay, having first ascertained from Mary, the cook, that supper would soon be ready, when they saw Dr. Martin coming from the apartment.

"Is he better?" asked Frank in a whisper.

"Yes," and the doctor smiled. "I succeeded in fully restoring him to consciousness, and he is now sleeping quietly. I have given him a powder and it will be some time before he awakens. He is worn out, in addition to being injured."

"Is he badly hurt?" Andy wanted to know. "Is his arm broken?"

"No, only severely sprained. In addition, he has several big bruises and a number of cuts where he must have been tossed against the rocks. His hands are burned slightly, but there is nothing dangerous, and with care he ought soon to recover."

"He must have gotten burned trying to put out the fire on the boat,"
commented Frank. "But, Dr. Martin, did you learn anything about him?
What's his name? Where does he belong? What was he doing near the
Shark's Teeth in a gale?"

"I can't answer any of your questions," replied the physician gravely. "I asked the lad who he was, thinking that his people would be worried, and that I might be able to send some word to them. But, though he was fully in his senses, and seemed to realize what he had gone through, I couldn't get a word out of him about his name.

"When I asked him, as I did several times, and as also did your mother, he would begin, 'I am——' Then he would stop, pass his hand across his forehead, and look puzzled. He did this a number of times, and it seemed to pain him to try to think. So I gave it up."

"How do you account for that?" asked Andy.

"Well, the fright and injuries he received may have caused a temporary loss of memory," replied the doctor. "Or there may be some injury to the brain. I can't decide yet. But I'll look in again this evening. He'll be much improved by then, I am sure."

"It's getting queerer and more queer," commented Andy, as the physician hastened away in his car. "Think of forgetting who you are, Frank!"

"It sure is too bad. We must try to help him. That motor boat would be a clue, I think. As soon as the weather gets better, and this storm blows over, we'll have a search for it."

"Yes, we're in for a hard blow, I think. It's a worse gale now than when we were out."

The wind, which had momentarily died out, had sprung up again with the approach of night, and it began to rain. Out on the bay, a view of which could be had from their house, the boys could see big tumbling billows.

"It's a good night to be home," mused Frank. "I'm afraid we'll never see that wrecked motor boat again. It will pound to pieces on the Shark's Teeth."

"Very likely. Well, let's go in and see how much nearer supper is ready. Dad's home now."

It was rather a long and dreary night, with the storm howling outside, and Frank, who had the last watch, was not sorry when the gray daylight came stealing in. The unidentified lad had slept soundly, only arousing slightly once or twice.

"We must have a nurse for him," Mrs. Racer decided, when she and her husband, together with the boys, had talked the case over at the breakfast table. "Poor lad, he needs care. He looks as if he came from good people—a refined family—don't you think so, Dick?" and she turned to her husband.

"Oh, yes, he seems like a nice lad. Get a nurse if you can, and have the best of everything. And I don't want you boys tackling any more whales," Mr. Racer added decidedly, as he gazed at his sons a bit sternly.

"No, indeed!" their mother hastened to add. "I should have died of nervousness if I had known they went out again, after that dreadful fish smashed Andy's boat."

"A whale's an animal, not a fish, mother," said the younger lad as he gave her a kiss. "We are going to capture that one and sell its oil."

"Don't you dare venture whale-hunting again, or we'll go straight back to New York, and that will be the end of your vacation," she threatened.

"That's right," added Mr. Racer. "Don't forget. Well, I must be off or I'll miss my boat," and he hurried away to his New York office.

There was quite an improvement in the condition of the mysterious youth that day, and, with the arrival of the nurse, the Racer boys and their mother were relieved from the care of him, though one or the other of them paid frequent visits to the sick room.

"He's doing nicely," said Dr. Martin on the third day. "He is out of danger now."

"And still not a word to tell who he is," spoke Frank.

"No," said the doctor musingly, "he talks intelligently on every subject but that. He remembers nothing of his past, however. He doesn't even seem to know that he was out in a motor boat. All he can recall is that he was in some kind of trouble and danger, and that he was saved. He knows that you boys saved him, and he is very grateful."

"And he doesn't know a thing about himself?" asked Andy wonderingly.

"Not a thing. It is as if he was just born, or as if he came to life right after the wreck. He has some dim memory of being in a big city, and of looking for some man, but who this man is seems to be as mysterious as who he himself is. So I have given up questioning him for the present as it distresses him."

"Will he ever recover his mind?" asked Mrs. Racer anxiously.

"Well, such cases have been known," replied the doctor. "Perhaps in time, with rest and quietness, it may all come back to him as suddenly as it left him. But what are your plans in regard to him?"

"He is to stay here, of course, until he recalls something of himself," said Mrs. Racer decidedly. "Then he may be able to tell us who his people are."

"And if that should take—say all summer?" The doctor looked at her questioningly.

"If we have to take him back to New York with us in the fall, we'll do it," went on the mother of Frank and Andy.

"Perhaps the city sights may recall him to himself," suggested Frank.

"Perhaps," agreed Dr. Martin. "Well, I'll stop in again to-morrow."

The next day, and the next, however, saw very little change. The lad grew much stronger, so that he could sit up in bed, but that was all. The past remained as dark as before. Yet he was intelligent, and could talk on ordinary topics with ease, and with a knowledge that showed he had been well educated. But even his name was lost to him. They looked in the newspapers but saw no mention of a lost boy.

Meanwhile Frank and Andy had made diligent inquiries about the wrecked boat, but had heard nothing. Nor was there any news of the whale.

"Of course I don't intend to go out after him, when dad and mom don't want us to," Andy carefully explained to his brother, "but it does no harm to ask; does it?" and he laughed joyously.

"No, I suppose not," assented Frank.

It was about a week after the rescue of the mysterious lad, and his physical condition had continued to improve. He would soon be able to get around, the doctor said. Frank and Andy, who never grew tired of discussing the problem, and of wondering when the lad's mind would come back, were strolling along the beach of Harbor View. The weather had cleared and they were thinking of going for a sail, mainly on pleasure but incidentally to look for the wrecked motor boat.

"It's queer no one has sighted her, or heard of her," remarked Andy, gazing on to sea, as if he might pick up the disabled craft on the horizon.

"Yes," agreed Frank. "I guess she's sunk all right."

They walked on in silence, and were about to turn back toward where their boat was moored, when they noticed a man walking rapidly along the sands of the beach toward them.

"He seems to be in a hurry," observed Frank, in a low voice.

"Yes," agreed his brother. "He looks as if he wanted to speak to us."

"He's a stranger around here," went on Andy.

A moment later the man hailed them.

"I beg your pardon," he began, striding up to the two brothers, and shifting his gaze rapidly from one to the other. "But have you seen or heard of a large motor boat going ashore around here? I'm looking for one. There would be a boy in it perhaps—a lad of about your size. Perhaps he put in here to get out of the storm. I've inquired all along the coast, but I can't get any word of him. You haven't happened to have heard anything, have you?"

Frank and Andy looked at each other quickly. At last they seemed on the track of the mystery.

"Was he a tall, dark lad, with black hair?" asked Frank.

"Yes—yes, that's the boy I'm looking for!" exclaimed the man quickly.

"And was the motor boat a long one, painted white with a green water line, and with the engines forward under a hood?" added Andy.

"Yes!" eagerly cried the man, in his excitement taking hold of Andy's coat. "That's the boat! Where is it? I must have it!"

"She's wrecked," said Frank quickly. "We saw her on the Shark's Teeth, going to pieces, and we've been looking for her since, but the boy—"

"Yes—yes! The boy—the boy! What of him? Where is Paul—?"

The man stopped suddenly, and fairly clapped his hand over his own lips to keep back the next word. He seemed strangely confused.

"We rescued the boy, and he is up at our house," said Frank quickly. "We have been trying to pick up the wreck of the boat and learn who the boy is. He has lost his memory."

"Lost his memory!" the man exclaimed, and he actually appeared glad of it.

"Yes, he doesn't remember even his name," explained the elder Racer lad. "But now we can solve the mystery as you know him. You say his name is Paul. What is his other name? Who are you? Don't you want to see him? We can take you to him—to Paul."

The brothers eyed the man eagerly. On his part he seemed to shrink away.

"I—I made a mistake," he said, biting his nails. "I know no one named Paul. I—I—it was an error. That is not the boy I want. I must hurry on. Perhaps I shall get some news at the next settlement. I am—obliged to you."

His shifty eyes gazed at the brothers by turns. Then the man suddenly turned away muttering something under his breath.

"But you seemed to know him!" insisted Frank, feeling that the mystery was deepening.

"No—no! I—I made a mistake. His name is not Paul. I am wrong.
That is—well, never mind, I'm sorry to have troubled you."

He was about to hurry away.

"Won't you come and see him?" urged Frank. "It is not far up to our house. My mother would be glad to meet you. Perhaps, after all, this lad may be the one you seek. His name may be Paul."

"No—no! I must go! I must go. I—I don't know any Paul," and before the Racer boys could have stopped him, had they been so inclined, the man wheeled about and walked rapidly down the beach.

CHAPTER VI

CHET SEDLEY'S STYLE

"Well, wouldn't that frazzle you!" exclaimed Andy.

"It certainly is queer," agreed his brother.

They stood looking down the beach after the figure of the strange man who had seemed to know the lad whom they had rescued from the sea, but who, on learning of his location, had shown a desire to get away without calling on the unfortunate youth.

Andy set out on a run.

"Here, where you going?" his brother demanded quickly.

"I'm going after that man, and make him tell what he knows!" declared the impulsive youth. "It's a shame to let him get away in this fashion, just when we were on the verge of learning something," Andy called back over his shoulder.

"You come right back here!" exclaimed the older lad, sprinting after his brother and catching him by the arm.

"But he'll get away, and we'll never solve the mystery!"

"That may be, but we can't take this means of finding out. We don't know who that man is. He may be a dangerous chap, who would make trouble if you interfered with him. You stay here."

"But how are we ever going to find out, Frank?"

"If this boy is the one whom that man wants he'll show his hand sooner or later. He was taken by surprise when he found that we had him, and he didn't know what to say. But he won't disappear altogether—not while the lad is with us. He'll come around again. Now you stay with me."

"All right," assented Andy, but with no very good grace. "I'm going to holler after him, anyhow."

Then, before Frank could stop him, had he been minded to do so, Andy raised his voice in a shout:

"Hey, where are you going? Don't you want to send some word to that boy we rescued?"

The man turned half around, and for a moment Andy and Frank hoped he would come back. Instead he shouted something that sounded like:

"Important business—see—later—don't bother me."

"Humph!" exclaimed Andy, as the man resumed his rapid walk. "We're not going to bother you. But we'll solve that mystery, whether you want us to or not," he added firmly. "Won't we, Frank?"

"If it's possible. I'm almost ready to go out now and have a search for the motor boat, but I think we'd better go back and tell him what happened."

"Tell who, the doctor?"

"No, this lad—the one who's at our house. He may know the man when we describe him."

"That's so. Paul, the man said his name was. Wonder what the other half was?"

"Guess you'll have to take it out in wondering. Come on back to the house."

It was a great disappointment to Frank and Andy when, after detailing their adventure with the queer man, and describing him minutely, to have the rescued lad say:

"I'm sorry, boys, but I can't recall any such man."

"Try hard," suggested Frank.

"I am trying," and the youth frowned and endeavored hard to concentrate his thoughts. "No, it's useless," he added with a sigh. "My memory on that point, if I ever had any, has gone with the rest of the past. It's too bad. I wish I could remember."

"Well, don't try any more now," said Frank quickly, as he saw that the youth was much distressed. "We'll do our best to help you out. And the first thing we'll do will be to look for that motor boat—that is, if she's still floating."

"Does the name 'Paul' mean anything to you?" asked Andy. "That's what the man called you before he thought."

"Paul—Paul," mused the lad. "No, it doesn't seem to be my name. Did he mention any other?"

"No, he cut himself off short. But what's the matter with us calling you Paul, until we find out your right name? It's a bit awkward to refer to you as 'he' or 'him' all the while. How does Paul suit you?"

"Fine! I like it."

"But what about his other name?" asked Frank.

"Gale!" suddenly shouted Andy.

"Gale?" repeated his brother wonderingly.

"Yes, don't you see," and Andy laughed. "We picked him up in a gale.
His first name's Paul, I'm sure, and Paul Gale would be a good name.
How about it, Paul?"

"It will do first rate until I can find my real one. Paul Gale—Paul
Gale—it sounds good."

"Then Paul Gale it shall be," declared Andy. and when he suggested it to his father and mother that night they agreed with him. So the rescued lad became Paul Gale.

As the days passed he gained in health and strength until he was able to walk out. Then the wonderful sea air of Harbor View practically completed the recovery, until Dr. Martin declared that there was no further use for medicine, and only nourishing food was needed.

"But about his mind," the physician went on, "time alone can heal that. We must be patient. Take him out with you, Andy and Frank, when he is able to go, and let him have a good time. That will help as much as anything."

In the meanwhile, pending the gaining of complete strength on the part of Paul Gale, as he was now called, the two Racer boys made many trips around the Shark's Teeth in their sailboat, looking for the wrecked motor craft. But they could not locate it. Nor were their inquiries any more successful. Sailors and fishermen who went far out to sea were questioned but could give no trace of the wreck.

"Guess we'll have to give it up," said Andy with a sigh one day.

"It's like the mysterious man," added his brother.

Mr. Racer was much interested in the efforts his sons were making to solve the mystery of Paul Gale. He even advertised in a number of papers, giving details of the rescue, and asking any persons who might possibly know the history of such a youth as he described, to call on him at his New York office. But none came.

Paul had not yet ventured far from the house, for he was still rather weak. His arm, too, was very painful, and he could not yet accompany his two friends on any of their rowing or sailing trips.

"But I'll go soon," he said one day, when Frank and Andy started off for the beach, with the intention of interviewing some lobstermen who were due to arrive from a long cruise out to sea. "Some time I'll surprise you by coming along."

"Glad of it," called Frank, linking his arm in that of his brother. Together they strolled down on the sands, to await the arrival of the lobstermen. They found Bob Trent there, loading up his wagon with soft clams, which he had just dug.

As Bob tossed in shovelful after shovelful of the bivalves, the two Racer boys saw approaching the vehicle a youth of about their own age but of entirely different appearance. For, whereas the Racer boys dressed well they made no pretense of style, especially when they were away on their vacation. But the lad approaching the wagon was "dressed to kill clams," as Andy laughingly expressed it.

"Look at Chet Sedley!" exclaimed the younger lad to his brother. "Talk about style!"

"I should boil a lobster; yes!" agreed Frank, laughing.

And well he might, for Chet, who was a native of Harbor View, had donned his "best" that afternoon. He wore an extremely light suit, with new tan ties of a light shade, and his purple and green striped hose could be seen a long distance off.

"You can hear those socks as far as you can get a glimpse of them," remarked Andy.

"And look at his hat," observed Frank. It was a straw affair, of rough braid, and the brim was in three thicknesses or "layers" so that it looked not unlike one of those cocoanut custard cakes with the cocoanut put in extremely thick. In addition to this Chet's tie was of vivid blue with yellowish dots in it, and he carried a little cane, which he swung jauntily.

As Chet passed the clam wagon, manned by Bob, who was dressed in his oldest garments, as befitted his occupation, one of the bivalves slipped from the shovel, and hit on the immaculate tan ties of the Harbor View dude. It left a salt water mark.

"Look here, Bob Trent! What do you mean by that?" demanded Chet indignantly as he took out a handkerchief covered with large green checks and wiped off his shoe. "How dare you do such a thing?"

"What did I do?" asked the clammer innocently, for he had not seen the accident.

"What did you do? I'll show you! I'll teach you to spoil a pair of new shoes that cost me two dollars and thirty-five cents! I'll have you arrested if that spot doesn't come out, and you'll have to pay for having them cleaned, too."

"I—I—" began Bob, who was a lad never looking for trouble, "I'm sorry—I—"

"Say, it's you who ought to be arrested, Chet!" broke in Andy, coming to the relief of his chum.

"Me? What for, I'd like to know?" asked the dude, as he finished polishing the tan ties with the brilliant handkerchief.

"Why you're dressed so 'loud' that you're disturbing the peace," was the laughing reply "You'd better look out."

"Such—er—jokes are in very bad taste," sneered Chet, whose parents were in humble circumstances, not at all in keeping with his dress. In fact, though Chet thought himself very stylish, if was a "style" affected only by the very vain, and was several years behind the season at that.

"You're a joke yourself," murmured Frank. "It wasn't Bob's fault that the clam fell on you, Chet," he added in louder tones.

"Why not, I'd like to know?"

"Because you are so brilliant in those togs that you blinded his eyes, and he couldn't see to shovel straight; eh, Bob?"

"I—I guess that's it. I didn't mean to," murmured Bob.

"Well, you'll pay for having my shoes shined just the same," snapped Chet, as he restored his handkerchief to his pocket with a grand flourish.

"Whew! What's that smell?" cried Andy, pretending to be horrified. "I didn't know you could smell the fish fertilizer factory when the wind was in this direction."

"Me either," added Frank, entering into the joke. "It sure is an awful smell. Whew!"

"I—I don't smell anything," said Chet, blankly.

"Maybe it's your handkerchief," went on Andy. "Give us a whiff," and before the dude could stop him the younger Racer boy had snatched it from his pocket. "Whew! Yes, this is it!" he cried, holding his nose as he handed the gaudy linen back. "How did it happen, Chet? Did you drop it somewhere? It's awful!" and he pretended to stagger back. "Better have it disinfected."

"That smell! On my handkerchief!" fairly roared Chet. "That's the best perfumery they have at Davidson's Emporium. I paid fifteen cents a bottle for it. Give me my handkerchief."

"Fifteen cents a bottle?" cried Andy. "Say, you got badly stuck all right! Fifteen cents! Whew! Get on the other side, where the wind doesn't blow, please, Chet."

"Oh, you fellows think you are mighty funny," sneered the dude. "I'll get even with you yet. Are you going to pay for shining my shoes, Bob?"

"I—er—" began the captain's son.

"Sit down and let's talk it over," suggested Andy, as he flopped down on the sand. "Have a chair, Chet. You must be tired standing," he went on.

"What? Sit there with—with my good clothes on?" demanded the dude in accents of horror. "Never!"

"A clam might bite you, of course. I forgot that," continued the fun-loving Andy. Then, as Chet continued to face Bob, and make demands on him for the price of having his tan shoes polished, the younger Racer lad conceived another scheme.

In accordance with what he thought were the dictates of "fashion" Chet wore his trousers very much turned up at the bottoms. They formed a sort of "pockets," and these pockets Andy industriously proceeded to fill with sand. Soon both trouser legs bulged with the white particles.

"Well, are you going to pay me?" demanded Chet of Bob finally.

"I—I didn't mean to do it, and I haven't any change to pay you now," said the captain's son.

"Pay him in clams," suggested Frank.

"No, I want the money," insisted the dude. He took a step after Bob, who walked around to get on the seat of the wagon. At his first movement Chet was made aware of the sand in the bottoms of his trousers.

The dude looked down, half frightened. Then he made a leap forward. The sand was scattered all about, a good portion of it going into the low shoes Chet wore. This filled them so that they were hard to walk in, and the next moment the stylishly dressed youth lurched, stepped into a hollow, and fell flat on the sand, his slender cane breaking off short at the handle as it caught between his legs.

"Come here and I'll pick you up!" shouted Andy, who had scrambled away as he saw Chet start out.

"You—you—who did this? Who pushed me?" stammered Chet, as he got up spluttering, for some sand had gotten in his mouth. "I'll have revenge for this—on some one! Who knocked me down?"

"It was the strong perfumery on your handkerchief," suggested Andy.
"It went to your head, Chet."

"It was you, Bob Trent; you did it!" yelled the dude, making a rush for the captain's son. "I'll give you a thrashing for this!"

CHAPTER VII

A LIVELY CARGO

"Hold on there, Chet!" cried Andy, as he saw Bob about to suffer for the trick he himself had played. The dude had hauled back his fist to strike the captain's son, who put himself in a position of defense.

"You can't stop me!" yelled Chet, making rapid motions with his fists.
Bob Trent shrank back.

"Stop, I say!" shouted Andy again, making a rush to get between the prospective combatants.

"Now you see what your fooling did," spoke Frank, in a low voice to his brother. "Why can't you cut it out?"

"Can't seem to," answered the fun-loving lad. "But I won't let 'em fight. I'll own up to Chet, and he can take it out of me if he likes."

"There!" suddenly cried Chet, as he landed a light blow on Bob's chest. "That'll teach you to dirty up my shoes, fill my pants full of sand and trip me up. There's another for you!"

He tried to strike the captain's son again, but Bob, though he was not a fighting lad, was a manly chap, who would stand up for his rights. Suddenly his fist shot forward and landed with no little force on the nose of the dude.

Once more Chet went down, not so gently as before, measuring his length in the sand. When he arose his face was red with anger, and his former immaculate attire was sadly ruffled.

"I—I—I'll have you all arrested for this!" he yelled. "I'll make a complaint against you, Bob Trent, and sue you for damages."

Chet made another rush for the driver of the clam wagon as soon as he could arise, but this time Andy had stepped in between them and blocked the impending blows.

"That'll do now!" exclaimed the younger Racer lad with more sternness and determination than he usually employed. "It was all my fault. I filled your pants with sand, Chet. I really couldn't help it, the bottoms were so wide open. But I didn't push you when you fell the first time. You tripped in that hollow. Now come on, and I'll buy you two chocolate sodas to square it up. I'll treat the crowd. Come along, Bob."

"No, I can't," answered Bob. "Got to get along with these clams. I'm late now. But I want to say that I'm sorry I knocked Chet down. I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't struck me first."

"That's right," put in Frank. "I'm sorry it happened."

"So am I," added Andy contritely. But it is doubtful if he would remain sorry long. Already a smile was playing over his face.

"Well, who's coming and have sodas with me?" asked the younger Racer brother, after an awkward pause, during which Bob mounted the seat of his wagon and drove off. "Come on, Chet. I'll have your cane fixed, too. And if you don't like a chocolate soda you can have vanilla."

"I wouldn't drink a soda with you if I never had one!" burst out the dude, as he wiped the sand off his shoes and brushed his light suit. "I'll get square with you for this, too; see if I don't."

"Oh, very well, if you feel that way about it I can't help it," said Andy. "I said I was sorry, and all that sort of thing, but I'm not going to get down on my knees to you. Come along, Frank. Let's go for a sail."

The clam wagon was heading for the street that led up from the beach. Chet had turned away with an injured air, and Andy linked his arm in that of his brother.

"You see what your fooling led to," said Frank in a low voice, as the two strolled off, "Why can't you let up playing jokes when you know they're going to make trouble?"

"How'd I know it was going to make trouble, just to put sand in Chet's pants?" demanded Andy, with some truth in his contention. "If I had known it I wouldn't have done it. But it was great to see him tumble; wasn't it?"

"Oh, I suppose so," and in spite of his rather grave manner Frank had to smile. "But you must look ahead a bit, Andy, when you're planning a joke."

"Look ahead! The joke would lose half its fun then. It's not knowing how a thing is going to turn out that makes it worth while."

"Oh, you're hopeless!" said Frank, laughing in spite of himself.

"And you're too sober!" declared his brother. "Wake up! Here, I'll beat you to the dock this time!" And with that Andy turned a handspring, and darted toward the pier, near which their sailboat was moored. Frank started off on the run, but Andy had too much of a start, and when the elder lad arrived at the goal Andy was there waiting for him.

"Now the sodas are on you!" he announced. "How's that?"

"Why, we didn't finish the rowing race on account of the whale, but this contest will do as well. I'll have orange for mine."

"Oh, all right, come on," and Frank good-naturedly led the way toward the only drug store in Harbor View. "But I thought you were going for a sail, and see if we could get a trace of mysterious wrecked motor boat," he added.

"So I am," admitted Andy. "But first I want a drink. Then I'm going to see how Jim Bailey is coming on with repairing the skiff that the whale tried to eat. After that we'll go sailing."

"And we'll see what we can do on our own account," announced Frank, as a little later he assisted his brother to hoist the sail on the Gull. Soon they were standing out of the harbor under a brisk wind which heeled their craft well over. They knew it was practically useless to expect a sight of the mysterious wreck until they were well out, and so they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the trip, talking at intervals of many things, but principally of the strange lad still quartered at their house.

"Poor Paul Gale!" said Frank. "It must be hard to lose your memory that way."

"Sure," agreed Andy. "Not to know who your father or mother is, or whether you have any, or whether you are rich or poor—it sure is tough."

"I think he must be well off, as I've said before," declared Frank. "But that's as far as I can get. If there was only some way of getting on the track of that strange man who seemed to know Paul, we could do something."

"But he's disappeared completely," said Andy. "He sure did make a quick getaway the day we met him on the sands."

Frank, who was steering, changed the course of the Gull. As he did so Andy suddenly stood up, pointed off across the slowly rolling waves, and cried out:

"Look there!"

"What is it, the motor boat or the whale?" asked Frank.

"It's a boat, but look who's in it. The mysterious man!"

A short distance away was a dory, containing one person, and it needed but a single glance from the eyes of the Racer boys to tell them it was indeed the tall, dark stranger who had acted so oddly after questioning them about Paul Gale. The man was rowing slowly and awkwardly, as if unused to the exertion, but as the sea was fairly calm he was not having a hard time, especially as the dory was built for safety.

"Think he sees us?" asked Andy.

"No, but he'll hear us if you don't talk lower," objected Frank.
"Sounds carry very far over water."

"All right," whispered the younger lad. "Let's see if we can't creep up on him. If we get near enough we can tell him Paul is much better, and he may be so surprised that he'll let out some information before he knows it."

"I haven't much hope of that," replied Frank, "but we'll try it." He changed the course of the sailboat once more until, it was headed right for the dory. The man rowing seemed to pay no attention to our heroes.

They were rapidly drawing close to him, and Andy took pains to conceal himself so that the stranger could not see him until the last moment. Frank was well screened by the sail.

Suddenly, off to the left, the boys heard a cry:

"Help! Help! They're getting loose! I can't catch 'em! Help! Help!"

"What's that?" demanded Andy in some alarm. "Some one is drowning."

"No, the call came from that lighter over there," declared Frank, pointing toward one of the clumsy harbor craft used to transport or "lighter" cargoes from one ship to another, or from dock to dock. The next moment this was made plain, for the call sounded a second time:

"Help! Help! Sailboat ahoy! Come to the rescue! I'll be bitten to death! Help!" At the same time the boys saw a man quickly climb up the stumpy mast of the lighter and cling there with one hand while he waved his cap at them with the other.

"We've got to go help him!" exclaimed Andy.

"If we do, this strange man will get away," warned his brother.

"That's so. What shall we do?"

They paused, undecided. Following up the man might mean the solution of the mystery surrounding Paul Gale. On the other hand they could hardly ignore the call for aid. They could not go to both places, as the lighter was in one direction and the dory being rowed in another. Once more came the cry:

"Help! Help! They're all getting out of the cages!"

"What in the world can he be talking about?" demanded the puzzled Frank, trying to catch a glimpse of the deck of the lighter. But the rail was too high.

"Shall we go to him?" asked Andy.

"Yes," spoke Frank reluctantly. "We can't let him die, and he seems to be in trouble. Maybe we can find that mysterious man again;" and he swung the tiller over. The Gull headed about and moved toward the lighter.

The man on the mast was frantically waving his cap and pointing at something down on the deck. Andy gave one look in the direction of the dory. The man was rowing more rapidly now. Perhaps he wanted to get out of the zone of so much excitement.

"There's something lively going on aboard that lighter," declared
Frank, as they drew nearer.

"I should say so!" agreed Andy. "Hear those yells! They must be killing one another! I'll bet it's a mutiny!"

"Mutiny aboard a lighter, with one man as captain and crew?" demanded Frank. "Hardly. But we'll soon find out what it is. Aboard the lighter!" he yelled. "What's the trouble?"

"Everything," was the quick answer. "Hurry up if you want to save me.
They're all over the deck."

"What is?" demanded Andy.

"Snakes and monkeys. They broke out of their cages and they're raising hob! Come on! Come on! Never again will I lighter a cargo of live stock of this kind! Hurry, boys! Hurry!"

"Snakes and monkeys!" murmured Andy. "I should say it was a lively cargo! How in blazes are we going to save him? I don't want fifteen feet of anaconda or boa constrictor aboard us!"

"We've got to do something for him," decided Frank with a grim tightening of his lips. "Stand by, I'm going to head up in to the wind. Then we'll lower the small boat and see what we can do."

CHAPTER VIII

ANDY IS CAUGHT

The lighter had been slowly moving ahead, but not under the influence of her sail, for the main sheet was free and the piece of canvas was idly flapping in the wind. Consequently the boys had no difficulty in coming up to her in their boat. Now they were ready to lower the small craft they carried slung on davits at the stern. This was a new addition to the Gull, put in place since the rescue of Paul Gale, for the brothers thought they might need it if they chanced to sight the wreck of the motor boat. Now it was likely to come in useful.

"Lower your sail," called Andy to Frank. "Then we can leave the Gull to drift while we pull over and see what's up."

The canvas came down on the run, and then Frank assisted his brother in lowering the small boat.

"Hurry! Hurry!" begged the man on the mast of the lighter. "One big gray-bearded monkey is getting ready to shin up after me, and there's a twenty-foot snake wiggling this way from the after hatch. Hurry!"

Andy paused in the operation of lowering the boat.

"Say, we're going to be up against it ourselves if we board that lighter," he said to Frank.

"I know it, but I don't intend to board her until I get those creatures out of our way."

"But how you going to do it?" his brother wanted to know.

"I'll make some plan after we row over and talk to the man. It's queer how he happened to have such a cargo, and how they got loose. Lower away."

The little craft took the water easily and was soon riding under the stern of the Gull. Frank and Andy slid down the rope falls, after tossing two pairs of oars into the boat, and unhooked the blocks, leaving them dangling to be used on their return to hoist the boat up to the davits again.

"We're coming!" yelled Frank, in answer to another frantic appeal for aid. "How many of them are there?"

"About a million snakes and ten thousand monkeys!" was the frightened reply. "Come on! I can't hang here much longer."

"Where did they come from?" demanded Andy, when he and his brother were near the side of the lighter.

"I got a job of transfering them from a ship that's just in from South
America, to a dock up near Seabright way," answered the man.

"How'd they get loose?" Frank wanted to know.

"Hanged if I know," was the reply. "I was sailing along easy like, when all of a sudden I felt something on my leg. It was sort of squeezin' me, and when I looked down I saw a big snake crawling up. I gave one yell and scudded across the deck. Then I saw a monkey making faces at me from the hatchway. The long tailed beasts must have broken out of their cages, and then the monkeys let the snakes loose. I climbed up here, and here I am."

"Are they savage?" asked Andy.

"Say, for the love of lobsters don't ask so many questions!" begged the man. "Get aboard here and drive the critters away so I can come down. One of the monkeys cast off the main sheet and spilled the wind out of the sail."

"It's a good thing he did, or we couldn't have come up to you," called
Frank. "We'll see what we can do. Where are the cages?"

"Down in the hold. The steamer captain, when I took the beasts, told me to keep 'em below, and I did, but I didn't think they'd get loose so I didn't have the hatch covers on."

"Well, it's easier than I thought," went on Frank. "Wait a minute and we'll be back."

He started to row their boat toward the Gull.

"Oh, don't leave me!" wailed the man.

"I'm not going to," shouted back the elder Racer boy.

"What are you going to do?" asked his brother.

"Go back and get some grub, and my revolver with blank cartridges in it."

"What's that for?"

"You'll see."

The brothers were soon aboard their own sailing craft again, and Frank quickly secured the weapon, directing Andy to pack in a bag all the spare food on board, for the boys usually kept a supply in a small galley, in case they were ever becalmed over night.

"Here's some crackers, some cans of peaches, some peanuts and a lot of stale pop corn balls," announced Andy.

"That'll do. Get a dish, and bring along the can opener," ordered
Frank. "I guess that will do."

"Oh, I'm on to your game now," said Andy.

"I'll want some condensed milk, too," went on the older boy. "Got any?"

"Yes, here's a couple of cans."

"Good, bring 'em along and another dish. Now I guess we're ready."

They were soon at the side of the lighter again with their odd collection.

"Where is the safest place to come aboard?" asked Frank of the man, who was still up the mast.

"Right amidships," he answered. "There's not a snake or monkey near there now, and it's right by the open hatch."

"Good!" answered Frank. "That'll do. Make our boat fast, Andy, and follow me. Bring the grub."

His brother obeyed, and soon the two lads were aboard the lighter. They saw a group of monkeys aft, chattering and wrestling among themselves, whether in play or anger was not evident. Forward were several large snakes contentedly sunning themselves on deck. There did not seem to be so much danger as the man had said, though doubtless if the monkeys were really aroused they might injure some one, as several were very large specimens.

"Quick now!" called Frank to Andy. "Help me spread out this grub near the open hatch. Open the cans of peaches and pour them over the crackers in the dish. Do the same with the condensed milk, only put that in a separate dish. It's lucky the snakes are forward, they'll get a whiff of it there."

Soon there was an array of food about the open hatch. So far the monkeys had paid no attention to the boys, for the brothers had worked silently, the man on the mast watching them curiously, but still afraid to come down.

"Now I guess we're ready," announced Frank. "Come over here, Andy, and we'll hide under this pile of canvas."

With his revolver in readiness, Frank led the way, followed by his brother. When they were both concealed from view Frank reached out his hand, and tossed several crackers toward the group of monkeys. There was a movement among them, and the chattering broke out doubly loud. One monkey grabbed a cracker in each paw, but they were immediately snatched from him by some of his mates. Then the whole crowd caught sight of the food around the open hatch and made a mad dash for it.

At the same time the snakes must have smelled the milk, and, as it is well known that these reptiles are very fond of this liquid, they crawled toward it.

"Now's my chance!" exclaimed Frank, when he saw the snakes and monkeys grouped about the hole in the deck, eagerly devouring the food. He raised his revolver in the air and fired several shots rapidly.

The effect was almost magical. With screams of fright the monkeys fairly leaped down the dark hole, and the snakes with angry hisses followed them. In less than five seconds not an animal or reptile was on deck.

"Quick! The hatch cover!" cried Frank, springing from under the canvas. His brother followed and the cover was clapped into place.

"Good enough!" yelled the man, climbing down from the mast, and assisting the boys to make the cover fast. "Now I've got the critters where I want 'em, and I'll keep 'em there until I get to the dock. Then the man that owns 'em can take 'em out. I won't. That was a slick trick, all right, boys. I'd never thought of that. You saved my life."

"Oh, I guess they wouldn't have killed you," spoke Frank. "But what's going to be done with them?"

"They're to go in some sort of summer show up Seabright way, I reckon. My! but I'm obliged to you boys! How much do I owe you?" and the man made a motion toward his pocket.

"Nothing," answered Frank quickly. "We're glad we could help you. I guess you won't have any more trouble."

"Not if you keep the hatch closed," added Andy.

"And you can make up your mind that I will!" answered the man decidedly. "No more snake or monkey cargoes for me. Well, I'll get along now, I guess. Say, I'd like to make you boys a present. I've got some prime lobsters that a fellow gave me. They're all alive. Won't you take some along?"

"Well, we generally can eat them," spoke Frank. "And my mother is very fond of lobster salad."

"Don't say another word," exclaimed the lighterman. "Here you are," and he drew forth a basket from under a pile of bagging at the foot of the mast. "Take 'em along."

There were a dozen fine, large lobsters in the basket as Andy ascertained by a peep, and then after thanking the man for them, and making sure that the hatch cover was on tight, the brothers rowed back to their craft. As they sailed away they saw the man carrying a small ketch anchor and placing it on top of the hatch cover.

"He isn't taking any chances," remarked Frank.

"Indeed not," agreed his brother. "Well, let's see if we can pick up that mysterious man again."

They looked all about, but there was no sign of the dory, and they felt that it would be useless to sail about in search, as it was getting late.

"Let's put for home," proposed Frank, and Andy assented.

When nearing their mooring place Andy got a piece of string and some strong paper, and proceeded to wrap up one of the largest lobsters.

"What are you going to do with that; give it to some of your girls?" asked Frank.

"Hu! I guess not," was the somewhat indignant answer. "I'm going to have a little fun with it. There are more than we need in that basket."

"Look out that some one doesn't have fun with you," warned his brother.

"Oh, I can take care of myself," answered Andy with a grin. He assisted his brother to carry the basket of lobsters up on the pier, and then, as they were rather heavy, and as a delivery wagon from a grocery where Mrs. Racer traded was at hand, Frank decided to send the shell fish home in that.

"Coming along?" asked the elder boy of his brother, as the delivery vehicle drove off.

"Yes, but I want to have some fun first. I see Chet Sedley coming, and I'm going to make him a present of this lobster. It's a lively one, and he won't know what's in the paper—until he opens it. Watch me."

Frank shook his head, but smiled. He followed his brother at a distance. The town dude, attired more gorgeously than before, saw Andy approaching, and was about to turn aside.

"Hold on," called Andy. "I'm sorry about what happened a while ago,
Chet, and here's a little present for you."

He held out the package.

"What's in it?" asked Chet suspiciously, as he took it.

"Why—er——" began Andy, but just then Mabel Chase, one of the prettiest girls in Harbor View, approached, and Andy took off his hat. Chet did likewise, making an elaborate bow. At the same time he let slide to the sidewalk the package containing the lobster, and he gave it a shove with his foot so that it would be in back of him.

For Chet was a very proud youth, and did not want to be seen carrying a bundle, especially by a young lady whose good opinion he desired.

"Charming day, Miss Chase," murmured Chet, as he resumed an upright position.

"Delightful," agreed the girl. "Where have you been, Andy? I haven't seen you in some time."

"Oh, we have been sailing."

"Have you rescued any more strange boys?" she went on. "Oh, I think that was so romantic! Does he know who he is yet?" For the story of Paul Gale was well known in Harbor View by this time.

"He hasn't the least idea," answered Andy.

"Beautiful day," observed Chet, edging nearer to the girl. "Oh, I said that before, didn't I?" he asked in confusion, for the dude's powers of talk were rather limited. "I mean, do you think it's going to rain?"

"Hardly," replied Andy. "But say, Chet, why don't you open the present
I gave you?"

Andy could not resist the opportunity of seeing how his joke would turn out—especially when there was a girl present to witness it.

"Oh, I—I don't want to now," replied Chet, and he took a step backward. Accidentally he stepped on the paper containing the large lobster. The string slipped off. There was a rustling movement in the wrapping and the paper suddenly opened. Something of a sort of greenish hue came into view; something with big claws. Neither Chet nor Andy noticed it, for they were both talking to Miss Mabel. The girl saw the lobster slowly reach up one large claw.

"Oh!" she screamed.

"What's the matter?" asked Andy.

He knew a moment later, for the crustacean caught him by the left ankle in a firm grip, and held on, while the would-be joker danced about on one leg, holding the other up in the air with the lobster dangling from, it. The tables were effectually turned.

CHAPTER IX

"THAR SHE BLOWS!"

"Take him off!" yelled Andy, dancing about. "Grab him, Chet. Wow!
How he pinches!"

"Oh! Don't let it get loose!" begged Miss Mabel, looking for a place upon which she could climb out of danger.

"Loose! That's just what I want to do—get him loose!" cried Andy.

"How—how did it happen?" asked Chet innocently. "Was that a lobster you gave me, Andy?"

"Never mind what I gave you," howled the youth. "Help me get him off."

Now Chet was not a very wise youth, but he knew better than to pick off a lobster, especially when there was yet one large claw that wasn't working, but which was waving about seeking for something else to pinch.

"Can't you help me?" begged Andy. Frank had stopped to speak to an acquaintance, and did not see the plight of his brother.

"Oh! Oh, dear! What shall I do?" wailed Mabel. Several men and boys began to gather about the scene.

"I've got to get him loose or he'll pinch off my foot!" cried Andy. He reached over as well as he could, while standing on one foot, and tried to get hold of the lobster by the back, behind the vicious claws. But he made a miscalculation.

The next moment the other claw of the lobster had gripped him on the wrist, fortunately taking hold around Andy's coat sleeve so that the flesh was not cut by the "teeth" of the crustacean's pincher.

Andy was now in a peculiar predicament, for he was held in a stooping position with the lobster clinging to his ankle and wrist. He put on the ground the foot which had first been gripped and was vainly endeavoring to pull the lobster loose when Frank, attracted by the crowd, hurried up. He saw at once what the trouble was, and with one well-directed kick he sent the lobster spinning out into the middle of the street, the suddenness of the blow loosening the tight claws.

"Well, of all things! What happened, Andy?" Frank asked.

"Don't ask me. Come on home," replied his brother, limping away, while Miss Mabel smiled and turned aside. Chet Sedley grinned. It was the first and only time he had unwittingly gotten the better of Andy Racer.

"I told you not to play any more jokes," spoke Frank, as he walked along at his brother's side. "You never can tell when they're going to come back on you."

"Oh, say, let a fellow alone; can't you?" expostulated the younger lad.

"Does it hurt you very much?" inquired Frank.

"I should say it does!" and Andy stooped over and rubbed his ankle and then gently massaged his wrist.

"Better get home and put some vaseline on it," suggested Frank.

"Vaseline! Say, the next time I try to play a joke on anybody, please holler 'Lobster' at me. And if that doesn't do any good just pinch me good and hard," requested the younger lad.

"I told you so," commented Frank.

"Yes, but I didn't believe you. Let's get home. Don't tell mother. She'd think I'd be in for a siege of blood poisoning, and keep me in bed. I'll be all right. But say, things have been happening lately; haven't they?"

"I should say yes. I'm sorry we missed that strange man to-day. We might have been able to get something about Paul out of him."

"I doubt it. However, we had a great time with the snakes and monkeys. Better not say anything about that at home, either, or dad and mom will put a stop to our sailboat if they think that something happens every time we go out in her."

"I guess that's right. We'll lay low and say nothing."

But the story got out, for the skipper of the lighter told at the dock in Seabright how two boys had come to his rescue, and the description of them fitted our heroes.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you chaps," said their father after supper a few evenings later, as he looked at them over the top of the paper. "Seems to me you're always doing something." He had heard the lobster and snake stories from a friend that day.

"But this wasn't our fault," said Frank. "We just had to help that man."

"It was just the same as when they rescued me," put in Paul Gale, who was sitting in an easy chair. "I'd never be alive to-day only for them."

"And it's too bad we missed getting a chance to talk with that strange man," went on Andy, glad to change the subject. "He might have told us something about you, Paul."

"I doubt it," commented Mr. Racer. "That man, whoever he is, has some strong object in keeping out of our way. I can't understand it, and have half made up my mind to put detectives on the case, for I feel sure that there is some strange mystery behind it all."

"Detectives, dad!" exclaimed Andy. "Say, let Frank and me do the detective work, and pay us the reward."

"Reward! I never thought of that!" exclaimed the silk merchant. "I believe it would be a good idea to do that. I'll put another advertisement in the papers."

He did so. But it brought no responses of any account, though many irresponsible persons claimed to be able to solve the mystery of the identity of Paul Gale. However, they all proved to be "fakers," and Paul was as hopeless as before.

"Never mind, we'll get on the track of it yet," declared Frank one day.

"Oh, if you only could!" sighed Paul. "Perhaps my mother or father may be anxiously looking for me, and can't find me. Nor can I find them until I know who I am."

"Well, we'll find out, if it's possible," declared Andy. "I haven't yet given up looking for your motor boat. I suppose it was your boat?" and he looked at the lad who, though yet partly an invalid, was rapidly convalescing.

"I—I don't know," was the weak response. "Sometimes I have a hazy notion that I had many such things, an auto, a boat, a pony, and a rich home, but it is all like a dream—a dream," and Paul buried his face in his arms.

"Don't worry," spoke Mrs. Racer soothingly. "Now you boys must stop talking about this, and get on a more cheerful subject. I want you all to promise to come and see me play golf to-morrow. We have a medal match at the Harbor View links, and it will do you good to get in some society, other than that of whales, wrecked motor boats and sailors. You will be strong enough to come, won't you, Paul?"

"I—I think so. I'm feeling better every day."

Paul went to the golf match in a carriage, and sat on the shady porch of the clubhouse while the two Racer boys followed their energetic mother about the links.

The sixteenth hole was down near the sandy shore of the bay, and while Mrs. Racer was teeing up for a trial at the seventeenth, Frank and Andy strolled toward the beach.

"It's a fine day for a sail," observed the younger lad.

"What! Go off and not see mother win!" cried Frank.

"Oh, I was only joking."

"Hum! Joking!" exclaimed Frank, and Andy laughed uneasily.

"There's someone in a boat headed this way," said Frank, after a pause.
"He's rowing fast, too."

"Looks like Bob Trent's dory," commented his brother.

"It is," was the answer. "Wonder what he's in such a hurry about?"

They watched the rower in silence for a few minutes, while Mrs. Racer played on, too interested in the game to miss her sons. A little later Bob's boat grounded on the shelving beach. He leaped out, pulled it up farther on the sands, and then, seeing the two Racer boys regarding him, he sang out:

"There she blows! A whale! Almost dead, and headed for shore. There she blows!"

He pointed out across the bay.

"A whale?" cried Frank.

"Maybe it's our whale!" exclaimed Andy "Let's go out and get It!"

He looked at his brother. Then both glanced over to where their mother was posing for a difficult shot.

"Come on!" cried Andy, and Frank followed him in a race to the beach, where Bob Trent awaited them. Out on the bay they could see two misty fountains of spray blown into the air—the spouting of the wounded whale.

CHAPTER X

A RIVAL CLAIM

"Pull hard!" cried Andy Racer.

"Pull hard yourself," retorted his brother.

"We've all got to pull for all we're worth if we want to get that whale before someone else does," added Bob Trent. They were all three in the old captain's big boat—the one in which Bob had been out clamming when he sighted the wounded whale, and hastened to shore with the news.

"Do you think anyone else would want it?" asked Frank, as he labored at the heavy oars. There was room for the trio of lads to handle sweeps.

"Sure, most anyone would want a whale," replied Bob. "It'll be worth a lot of money to the fertilizer factory, and then there's the oil."

"Then there's the whalebone," put in Andy eagerly. "We ought to get a lot of money for that."

"This kind of a whale doesn't have the sort of bone that is valuable, I believe," suggested Frank. "It's only for the oil that they're hunted. But still, if we can get this one we ought to knock out a pretty penny."

"If there was a lump of ambergris in it we all be millionaires!" exclaimed Andy eagerly.

"Well, of course ambergris is said to be found in dead whales," admitted Frank, as he cast a look over his shoulder to observe their course, "but our whale isn't dead yet."

"And? maybe we won't get it after all," went on Bob. "Have you seen him spout lately?"

"No, but then he may have sounded and it will be about fifteen minutes before he comes up again," announced Frank. "Was he nearly dead, Bob?"

"Pretty far gone. Some gulls were hovering over him in anticipation, I guess, and that's a good sign."

"I wonder what mom will say," came from Frank, after a pause. "We sort of promised we wouldn't go whaling again, Andy."

"I don't believe she'd care if she knew how it was, but we didn't have time to tell her. Besides, she doesn't like to be interrupted when she golfing. Anyhow, this whale is nearly dead and there can't be any harm going for a dead one. I was a live one she and dad were thinking about when they warned us."

"I guess so," agreed Frank. "Anyhow we're out now and we might as well keep on. I wonder——"

"There she blows again!" interrupted Bob excitedly, and he stopped rowing long enough, to point to a spot in the bay not far distant.

"And she's spouting blood now!" fairly yelled Andy. "That whale is ours as sure as guns! Have you a line aboard, Bob?"

"Yes, a long anchor rope, strong enough, I guess, for what I need.
Let's put in a little closer. We can keep track of the whale now.
Don't lose sight of it."

"One of us had better keep on the watch," proposed Andy.

"What are you trying to do—get out of rowing?" asked his brother with a laugh.

"No, we can take turns being lookout. Only we don't want to lose sight of the whale."

This was agreed to, and, as he had suggested it, Andy was allowed to take his place in the bow and watch the progress of the immense animal. It was a large whale, probably seventy-five feet long and big in proportion. It was swimming slowly along, about half submerged.

"Don't go too close," advised the younger Racer boy, in memory of what had once happened to him when he first met the whale. "It may remember me and be anxious to finish up what it began."

"Do you suppose it's the same one?" Frank wanted to know.

"Shouldn't be a bit surprised," said Bob. "There would hardly be two whales around here so close together, and both injured. That's your whale sure enough. But Andy's right, we must not get too near. It might take a notion to charge us."

Accordingly they sheered off, and rowed along in a course parallel with that of the monster They had paid little attention to where they were heading, and it was not until an exclamation from Frank drew their attention to it that they noticed how far away from land they were.

"We'll have a fine long row to get back," observed Andy.

"Yes, towing the whale, too," added his brother.

"Maybe we'd better take a chance and make fast," suggested Bob. "I think I can get my anchor line over that harpoon I see sticking out and then we can begin towing."

"Nixy on that!" exclaimed Andy quickly. "We don't tackle any live whales. We'll wait for this one to die."

"I wish it would hurry up about it then," grumbled Frank. "I don't want to stay out here a night."

Suddenly, as he spoke there was a flurry of water about the dying monster of the deep.

"Look out!" yelled Andy. "It's coming for us."

"Back water!" shouted Bob.

They bent to the oars with a will, Andy taking up his discarded ones. But they need not have been alarmed. It was the last move the whale was destined to make. Rearing itself partly up out of the water the monster suddenly sank, making such a commotion that the boat of the boys was tossed about like a chip in the surf.

"He's sounded again!" shouted Andy.

"No, that's the end," said Bob, who had heard his father tell of whaling voyages. "The whale is dead, and he's gone to the bottom."

"Then we can't get it," came regretfully from Andy.

"Oh, yes we can," declared Bob.

"How?" Frank wanted to know.

"Why, after a whale dies, and sinks, gases very soon begin to form inside it. This swells it up like a balloon, and it comes to the top again. Then we can get it."

"How long will it take?" asked Andy, with an anxious look at the sun, for it was getting late.

"Oh, maybe an hour, perhaps longer," replied Bob. "We will just have to hang around here until it comes up."

"I hope our folks don't get worried about us," remarked Frank, who was a little uneasy about having gone off as they had so suddenly. "We left Paul at the clubhouse all alone, too."

"Oh, well, he won't mind. There's lots going on, and we'll soon be back—if we have luck," commented Andy.

"Queer about that Paul," spoke Bob. "You haven't seen anything more of that strange man; have you?"

"No, and I'm afraid we won't, either," declared the elder Racer boy. "It seems to be a mystery we'll never solve. If we could only find that missing motor boat it might help some. But I guess that's sunk, though it was floating when we took Paul aboard our craft."

The boys rowed slowly about the spot where the whale had gone down, casting eager glances from time to time at the rolling billows. They were careful to keep far enough away so that the rising monster would not come up beneath them, and capsize the boat.

It was a little short of an hour when Frank, who had stood up to stretch his cramped legs, suddenly uttered an exclamation:

"Look!" he cried, and pointed dead ahead.

Something rose from the sea, rolled over several times, and then swayed gently with the motion of the waves.

"Our whale!" cried Andy.

"Dead as a door nail!" added Frank.

"Don't be too sure," cautioned Bob. "Wait a minute."

They waited, but there was no motion to the monster save that caused by the heaving ocean, and they ventured closer.

"Gee whizz! He's big all right!" exclaimed Andy.

"That's right," agreed Bob. "Now let's make this line fast to the harpoon handle, and we'll tow him ashore."

"Why, there are two harpoons in him!" cried Frank, as a second shaft was visible.

"There was only one when he tackled us," declared Andy. "Someone else must have had a try at killing him since he smashed my boat."

The other lads agreed that this was very probable, but there was no time to speculate on it. The anchor line was quickly made fast, and being attached to the stern of the boat the work of towing the whale to the beach was begun.

It was hard work, and it might seem that three boys could not accomplish it. But it is well known that once a large and heavy body is started in motion in water, a slight force will keep it going. It was so in this case.

At first the three lads tugged and strained on the oars to little advantage. The whale did not move. But finally persistance told, and the inert body began to slide through the waves. After that it was but a matter of keeping at it.

"Oh, we'll get home before dark I guess," remarked Andy, when they had rowed in silence for half an hour.

"If we don't we'll be in for it when we do arrive," prophesied Frank half dubiously. "Let's see if we can't get up a little more steam."

They quickened their strokes, and soon the coast line came into view, having been hidden by mist. Then they headed for the stretch of sand of their home town.

"Where shall we land it?" asked Frank, nodding at the whale, floating astern.

"Oh, a little way up from the big pier will be a good place, I guess," decided Bob. "It's deep water close in to shore there, and we'll have to get the body stranded where the tide won't carry it off. Besides, if we sell it to the fertilizer factory that's the best place for them to come after it."

To this the Racer boys agreed, and by hard work they managed to reach the beach before dark, towing the whale in as close to shore as possible.

Their arrival was soon noticed by the people of Harbor View and as word of what they had captured spread, a large throng soon gathered on the beach.

"A whale! Good land, what will them Racer boys do next?" one woman wanted to know. No one took the trouble to answer her.

"It's a fair-sized one, too," observed old Captain Obed Harkness. "I mind the time I was up in the Arctic after them critters. We didn't often git 'em bigger'n that."

"What you fellows going to do with it?" asked Harry Dunn, who sometimes went clamming with Bob. "Gee, I wish I'd been along."

"We're going to sell it to the fertilizer factory," said Andy. Then he added to his brother, in a low voice: "Hadn't we better telephone to mother that we're here? She may get wind of this and worry."

"Yes, I'll call her up," volunteered Frank. "Then we'll see if we can talk to someone at the fertilizer factory. You stay here. I'll be right back."

"Say, why don't you put a tent over the whale, and charge admission to see it?" asked Bert Ramsey. "You could make a lot of money. Summer visitors from Seabright and other places would like to see a real whale."

"Couldn't get a tent big enough without a lot of trouble," replied Andy, as his brother hurried away. Meanwhile the crowd on the beach became larger, and there were new arrivals every second, as the news spread.

"There's a big motor boat coming in here," suddenly remarked Bob to
Andy, as they stood near the head of the whale.

The Racer lad glanced across the darkening sea. He had a momentary idea that it might be the craft from which he and his brother had rescued Paul Gale. But a glance showed him that it was a fishing vessel, that had been fitted up with a "kicker" or small gasolene engine, the noise of which came across the bay as the craft was headed toward the spot where the whale was stranded.

"Wonder what they want?" mused Andy.

"Out of gasolene, perhaps, and need a supply," suggested Bob.

Few paid any attention to the oncoming craft, as they were too interested in looking at the whale. Frank came hurrying back, and said to his brother:

"It's all right. Mother was just beginning to get worried. But I fixed it all right, and said we had the whale, and hadn't been in a bit of danger."

"What about the fertilizer factory?"

"Couldn't get 'em on the wire. To-morrow will do for that. Now let's get home. The whale will be safe here, I guess."

"Let's see that the line is good and tight," suggested Bob, for the ketch anchor cable had been carried up on shore and made fast to an old bulkhead.

The three boys were just making their way through the crowd when the oncoming motor boat came to a stop as near the shore as was possible to run in. Two men, in long rubber boots, leaped overboard and waded through the shallow water.

"Here it is, Bill!" called the foremost.

"So you were right about it, Jack. Those lads in the small boat did have it."

The two burly fishermen elbowed their way through the throng, shoving people to right and left as they approached the whale.

"Come now!" exclaimed the one called Jack. "Get away from our whale!
We're going to tow it out again."

"Your whale!" cried Frank, who, hearing the words, quickly turned back with his brother and Bob.

"Yes, our whale!" cried Bill. "We harpooned it the other day, and we've been hunting for it ever since. We thought we saw a motor boat towing it away to-day, and chased after it just about the time Jack spied you lads in the rowboat hauling something. Jack wanted to take after you, but the rest of us thought the motor boat had our prize, so we lost time until we found it was only a wrecked boat that they were towing. Then we came after you. I wish we'd caught you before you hauled this up on shore, as we're going to have trouble getting our whale off again."

"What makes you say that's your whale?" demanded Andy hotly.

"Because it is," answered Jack. "We struck it, though it didn't die right away. Now you folks keep back, and we'll haul it off. Come on, fellows!" he called to the others in the motor boat. "Lend a hand here, it's bigger than I thought."

"That's not your whale, and you can't have it!" cried Frank determinedly. "We picked it up at sea, and towed it in. My brother and I saw it several days ago, and it struck one of our boats. It's our whale, and we intend to keep it."

"Get out of the way!" roughly cried the man called Bill. "We haven't time to bother with you," and he elbowed Frank to one side.

CHAPTER XI

A FIRE ON BOARD

Surprise at the bold claim of their rivals held the three boys almost spellbound for a moment. The possibility that someone should seek to get possession of the whale they had brought ashore after such labor, and almost as soon as they landed, had never occurred to them. Yet the fishermen seemed determined, for one of them began casting off Bob's anchor line, and several more of the burly chaps, in their long rubber boots, leaped overboard from the boat, and waded ashore.

"What had we better do?" asked Andy of his brother. "Are you going to let them take our whale?"

"Not much!" exclaimed Frank, with a determined tightening of his lips.
"I'm going to fight every inch. They shan't take it away."

"Let's appeal to the crowd," suggested Andy. "Tell 'em just how we found the whale, and they won't let these men take it away from us."

Frank looked doubtful as to the wisdom of that course. Meanwhile the men were busily preparing to tow the whale away out to sea in the powerful motor boat.

"If my father was only here," began Bob, "he would know what to do, and what our rights were. There are certain laws about whales and things found at sea, and he'd make these fellows skip out if they were in the wrong."

"Of course they're in the wrong!" cried Andy. "Didn't we see the whale first, and didn't we to it home?"

"But they say they harpooned it," said Bob,

"Yes, and there was only one iron in it, Andy, when it broke your boat," added Frank. "Now there are two harpoons in the back. One might be theirs. I'm going to notify Justice Fanchard and see what he says."

"Lively now, men!" called Bill, as Frank started off.

There was another movement on the outskirts of the throng, and someone pushed his way in.

"It's dad!" cried Bob. "Hey, dad!" he shouted. "These men are going to take our whale! We just towed it in, Frank and Andy Racer and me! Can these men take it?"

"Of course we can, kid!" cried one of the fishermen. "Get out of the way, if you don't want to be knocked down."

"Oh, it's you, is it, Jack Kett!" exclaimed Captain Trent. "And Bill Lowden and his crowd. Well, you fellows would take anything, whether it was yours or not. Now jest hold on a bit. Luff up and let's see where we're at. Maybe you're on the wrong course and need new clearance papers. Avast there, and let me know the particulars."

"There ain't any particulars except that we harpooned this whale, and it's ours," growled Bill Lowden. "You needn't be putting your oar in, Cap'n Trent. We know our rights. There's our iron, and it's got the name of our boat branded in it—the Scud—you can see if you light a match," for it was now dark.

"Hum! When did you strike it?" asked the captain, amid a silence, for, as an old whaling master and one of the most influential residents of Harbor View, the captain was universally respected.

"We were going along just outside the Shark's Teeth reef day 'fore yesterday," spoke Jack Kett, "when our lookout spied the whale. We keep a couple of irons aboard for sharks, dogfish and the like, and it didn't take long to sink one in this critter. Then he sounded and we couldn't pick him up again. We've been looking for him ever since, and to-day we thought we saw someone in a motor boat towing our whale away. I explained how we got on the wrong course," and he detailed what is already known to my readers.

"Then we found the whale here," went on Jack Kett, "and we're going to have it."

"Hum," mused the captain. "It looks as they had the right of it, boys," he said in a low voice, to his son and the latter's chums.

"Ask them if the whale wasn't about dead when they harpooned it, and if it didn't already have an iron in it?" suggested Frank.

"Another iron; eh? That's a different story. Somebody bring a lantern," called the captain quickly.

One was procured, and the crowd made way while the aged whaleman approached the dead beast.

"Here, you can see our iron," said Bill Lowden eagerly. "There it is, as plain as day, with our boat's name burned in the handle."

"Hum, that's right," admitted Captain Trent as he noted the harpoon. "But what about this?" he asked quickly, pointing to a second one, lower down, and in such a position that it could not be readily seen. "Is that yours too?" and Captain Trent held the lantern so that the gleam shone on the other implement.

"What's that? Another harpoon?" cried Kett. "Did we use two, boys?" and he turned to the group of his men.

"No, only one," somebody answered.

"This has a brand on it too," went on Bob's father. He held the lantern nearer. "The Flying Fish," he read as he saw the burned letters. "Guess that was in some time before your iron, Lowden, for it's pretty well worn by sea water. There's a prior claim to this whale, and as long as no one is here from the Flying Fish this prize belongs to the boys that towed it in. If you don't agree with that jest say so, an' we'll go to law about it. But I know my rights, and these boys will get theirs."

"That's right!" cried several in the crowd. "The whale belongs to the boys."

Jack Kett and Bill Lowden looked at each other. This was something for which they had not bargained. There was a murmur among their men.

"We—we didn't know the whale had been struck before," admitted Bill.

"That's right," chimed in his partner. "We only want what's fair," he went on, in more conciliatory tone than at first.

"That's the way to talk," commented Captain Trent. "I admit you have some claim on the whale, for your iron helped to kill it. The law gives you a tenth part, after other parties have landed the prize, and I'll see that you get it. Now if it's settled you fellows can go, and I'll notify you when the money's ready."

"All right," assented Bill, after a conference with his partner and men. "I guess it's the best we can get out of it. But it's hard to lose a prize when you think you're got it. I'm not blaming you boys," he added quickly, "for I guess you had a hard pull with it. Come on, men, we'll leave our case with Captain Trent."

It was an unexpected turn of affairs, and the boys were glad the contest had ended in their favor. They were congratulated on all sides, and jokingly asked what they were going to do with the money, which was likely to be quite a large sum.

"We're going to buy a whaling vessel, make Mr. Trent captain, and go into the business," said Andy with a laugh. He looked around for his brother, and saw Frank talking to Kett.

"I heard you say something about seeing a boat towing something you thought was the whale, but which turned out to be a wrecked motor boat," began the elder Racer lad. "What sort of a boat was the wrecked one?"

"Well, it was pretty big, with a hood up forward, and it looked as if it had been in a fire. It was all blacked."

"A fire!" cried Frank eagerly, as the memory of the boat from which
Paul Gale had been rescued came to him. "Are you sure of this?"

"Certain. We were right close to 'em. That's what made us lose so much time. If we'd taken after you boys in the first place we might have found the whale ourselves."

"Bob Trent sighted the whale before he came for us," explained Frank, "so he'd have first claim on it anyhow. But which way was the motor boat going?"

"Along toward Seabright. Then it got hazy and we lost sight of it."

"Did you notice whether there was a tall, dark man aboard?" asked Frank eagerly.

"Yes, there was such a chap," broke in Bill Lowden. "And he seemed mighty anxious about the wrecked boat in tow. Why, do you know him?"

"I don't know—I've met him," said Frank, as he quickly turned to join his brother. Then he whispered to Andy: "Come away, I've got on the track of the mysterious man and the wrecked motor boat. I want to talk to you."

Wonderingly, Andy followed. There was no need to stay and guard the whale, as Kett and his crowd were preparing to leave. Soon Andy had been told all that Frank had learned.

"What are you going to do?" asked the younger brother.

"We'll go to Seabright the first thing in the morning. Maybe we can find the man there. I believe we're on the right track. Let's go and tell Paul."

There was no little excitement in the Racer home when Andy and Frank arrived with their tale of the sea, the whale, and the quarrel about it. So interested were Mr. and Mrs. Racer that they did not chide their sons for their partial disobedience of orders. As for Paul, he leaned forward eagerly in the easy chair, listening to the tale of the brothers.

"Oh! If I would only get strong enough go with you!" he exclaimed regretfully.

"Don't worry, you will be strong soon," said Mrs. Racer kindly.

"It was rather mean of us to go away and leave you all alone, momsey," spoke Frank. "And Paul, too. But when Bob called us we just couldn't resist."

"I'll forgive you," said the mother. "I won my golf match after all, and perhaps if you had followed me over the links I might not have done so."

"And I didn't mind being left alone," added Paul. "I'm so glad you got the whale."

"And we may get your motor boat, and find out who that strange man is," said Frank.

"Now go slowly," advised Mr. Racer. "I don't want you boys getting into trouble and danger. I think I had better attend to this matter myself, only I can't very well stay away from the office to-morrow."

"Oh, we can do the work all right," declared Frank. "We'll go in our sailboat, it won't take us long. Perhaps Paul will be strong enough to come along."

"I wish I was," and the invalid shook his head. "But somehow I don't feel so well to-night."

"Then we must have Dr. Martin look at you," decided Mr. Racer, and, in spite of Paul's protests the physician was summoned by telephone.

"It is nothing," he said after examining Paul. "He exerted himself a little too much to-day. He must be quiet for a couple of weeks yet and he'll be all right."

"Then that means no trip for you to-morrow," said Mrs. Racer kindly. "Never mind, I'll amuse you while the boys are away pretending they are detectives," and she smiled at Paul.

It was about nine o'clock when Frank happened to remember that he had left aboard their sloop Gull a book of adventures in which he was much interested.

"I'm going down and get it," he announced. "I won't be long."

"I'll go with you," offered Andy, and the two started off toward the mooring place, which was near the big public pier. The boys kept a light skiff tied to the float and in this way they used to row out to the sailboat.

As they approached the pier they heard confused shouts and cries coming from the direction of the bay.

"Something's going on!" cried Frank, breaking into a run.

"Yes. Sounds like someone in trouble," added Andy as he hollowed.

Once more came the cry, and this time the brothers could make it out:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

They turned a corner of the street that led straight out on the long pier, and there caught sight of a cloud of smoke in the moonlight, and saw dancing flames near the surface of the water. Then Frank uttered a cry of alarm:

"It's our boat—the Gull—she's on fire!" he yelled.

CHAPTER XII

THE STRANGER AGAIN

Frank and Andy ran as they had never run before. Out on the long pier they speeded, their eyes turned toward their boat which they could now hardly see on account of the haze of smoke.

"How do you think it happened?" panted Andy.

"Don't know. We've got to get the fire out first, and think afterward.
Come on, leg it faster!"

Once more they heard the cries of fire.

"That's Bob Trent!" called Frank. "There he goes out in his boat!
We'll have to get some sort of a pump."

"That's—right!" gasped Andy.

The brothers were now at the gangway leading down to the float. Several men and boys who had been fishing off the end of the pier were gathered there, and it was they who had been shouting.

"Guess your boat's a goner," observed Captain Trent. "Bob has gone out to her."

There was now more smoke than fire aboard the Gull, but it seemed to the boys only a matter of a few seconds when the flames would again break out.

"Is there a pump? Has anyone a pump?" begged Frank.

"Here's a small one they use to get the bilge water out of their motor boats," said the dock master, for the pier was a station for a yacht club, and the dock-keeper lived in a small house on the pier. "It doesn't throw much of a stream, though."

"Better use pails," cried Captain Trent. "Here are a couple I use for clams. Take 'em along. The fire started sudden-like, when we were all standing here talking about the whale."

Andy and Frank did not stay to hear more. Quickly they shoved off in their skiff and were soon approaching the Gull, at the side of which Bob Trent now was.

"It's a lot of hay smoldering!" he shouted. "Maybe I can get it overboard with my boathook. Come on, fellows."

"Row! Row!" cried Frank, for Andy had the only available pair of oars.

"I am rowing as hard as I can. Hay on fire! We had no hay on our boat. Someone must have put it there and tried to burn it!"

"I guess so. But don't talk—save your breath for rowing."

A minute later Frank and Andy were beside Bob in his boat. Dense smoke was pouring from the Gull, and Frank, dipping up a pailful of water, dashed it into the cockpit. There was a hiss, showing that fire was present.

"Wait!" cried Bob. "I think I can pull the hay overboard now. It's a small bale."

He stood up and jabbed his boat-hook into something. The next moment a dark mass, in which red glowing embers could be seen, and which gave out a dense smoke, splashed into the water with a loud hissing noise.

"There's still some fire in the boat!" cried Andy, as he saw tiny tongues of flame.

"Yes, the woodwork is on fire, but a little water will douse that," cried Frank, as he caught up another pailful. With Bob using the second pail, and Andy the pump, the fire was soon put out.

"Not so much damaged," observed Frank, as the three boys went aboard, and examined the craft with a lantern. "But how in the world did it start—or, rather, who put the hay here and set fire to it?"

"That's the question," admitted Bob. "All I know is that I was standing talking to dad, when I smelled smoke, and saw it coming from your boat."

"Did you see anyone around it to-night?" Andy wanted to know.

"Not a soul. We'll ask the pier master."

But when the boys, after making sure that no sparks of fire remained, had gone back to the float, the dock master could give them no information. He had not noticed any suspicious characters about, but it was admitted that under cover of darkness, before the moon had risen, someone might have rowed silently to the side of the Gull and started the fire smoldering in the bale of hay.

"But why would they want to do it?" asked Captain Trent.

"Give it up," said Frank. "Well, we might as well get back home, Andy. Will you keep your eyes open for any more fires, Mr. Robinson?" he asked of the caretaker of the yacht station.

"Sure I will, and they'll find they're in the wrong harbor if they try any more tricks like that."

"Have you any suspicions?" asked Andy of his brother, as they were on their way home.

"I sure have," was the answer.

"What are they?"

"Well, either the men who were disappointed in not getting the whale did this, or it's up to that mysterious man who knows Paul Gale."

"I believe it's the latter. He wants to discourage us from trying to get on his track."

"Probably. Well, we won't say anything about that part of it at home, though we'll have to mention the fire. I hope we can make our trip to-morrow to Seabright."

"So do I."

It was found the next morning that the Gull was not much damaged, and, though it smelled strongly of smoke, the two brothers did not mind that as they prepared for the cruise to Seabright.

"Think we'll get any clue?" asked Andy, as he cast off, while Frank ran up the sail.

"Well, it won't be from want of trying. We'll keep a good lookout on the way up, and then we'll go ashore there and make some inquiries. I'm going to get at the bottom of this mystery if it's at all possible," and Frank looked very determined as he fastened the throat and peak halyards on the cleats and looked to see if the sheet was running free in the blocks.

On the trip up the coast the boys kept a sharp watch for anything resembling a wrecked motor boat, or for one in good condition resembling the towing craft of which Jack Kett had spoken. They saw nothing, however, even though they sailed out to sea several miles.

"Let's head for Seabright now," proposed Andy, as they swung about on a long tack. "Maybe he's there waiting for us."

"He'll run if he sees us," jokingly replied Frank.

In about an hour the boys had made their craft fast to the Seabright pier, and going to the office of the dock master they inquired for a motor boat that answered the description of the one for which they were looking.

"We have so many craft here in the summertime," said the dock official, "that it's a pretty hard matter to remember 'em all. I don't recall the boat you speak of, and I'm sure no motor craft that was partly burned has put in here. But speaking of a tall dark man, I recollect now that Jim Hedson, who runs the sailboat Mary Ann, was telling me he had a fellow come to him and want to hire her. Maybe that's the fellow you're looking for."

"Perhaps!" agreed Andy eagerly. "Where is Jim Hedson?"

"Over there," and the dock master pointed to where a group of sailors and fishermen were seated on an overturned boat on the beach.

"We'll talk to him," proposed the elder Racer lad, and, followed by his brother, he approached the little gathering. Before they reached the men Andy uttered a sudden exclamation.

"Look!" he cried to his brother, pointing up the street which led down to the water front. "That man—the mysterious stranger—here he comes!"

"Sure enough!" agreed Frank, as he saw a tall dark man hurrying toward the pier. "That's him all right."

The boys stood waiting, hoping against hope that they could now solve the mystery. The man hastened forward. All at once he caught sight of the lads.

Like a flash he wheeled about and fairly ran back up the street, while
Frank took after him calling:

"Hey! Hey! Wait a minute! Stop!"

CHAPTER XIII

A MIDNIGHT SCARE

There was a trolley line, newly built, which ran through Seabright, touching some of the other seacoast towns, but not Harbor View. As luck would have it, just when Frank Racer took after the strange man, hoping to make him stop by calling to him, one of the trolley cars came past.

In a flash the man had jumped aboard the electric vehicle, and, as fate would have it, the motorman happened to be behind time. No sooner was the queer stranger in the car, which had not even stopped for him, than the knight of the controller handle swung it clear around in an endeavor to keep up to his schedule, and with a whizz the car darted off.

"Wait! Wait!" yelled Frank, waving at the conductor. The latter shouted something, what it was the lad could not make out. Andy rushed up and joined his brother.

"Missed him; didn't we?" exclaimed the younger lad ruefully.

"Yes, worse luck," replied Frank. "He always seems to get away from us."

"There'll be another car along in fifteen minutes, boys," said a kindly fisherman passing along.

"It wasn't the car we wanted, it was someone on it," answered Frank.
"Fifteen minutes will give him such a start that we can't follow him."

"Was he a pickpocket?" asked the fisherman.

"We don't know what he was," said Andy. "Come on, Frank, we'll go back and talk to Jim Hedson."

"I was thinking of taking the next car, and keeping after this fellow," spoke Frank, with his usual determined manner.

"What would be the use?" asked Andy, who generally took the easiest way. "He might get off anywhere along the line, and we could hunt all day and not find him. It would be time wasted."

"I guess you're right," assented Frank, with a sigh. "But I hate to give up. I'm sure there's some great mystery back of all this, and Paul and that man are in some manner connected with it. I shouldn't be surprised if that man had wronged Paul in some way."

"How, by taking his motor boat?"

"No, in some other way. It was a queer thing why Paul should be out in his boat alone in the blow. Then to have the boat disappear, and to be seen again towed by this man."

"You're not sure of the last part."

"I am pretty sure. But let's ask Mr. Hedson what he knows about it."

The boys did not find the boatman in a very kindly frame of mind. He greeted them rather sulkily as they approached:

"What do you lads mean by scaring off customers?" he asked.

"We didn't scare him off," answered Frank sturdily.

"What do you call it then? Wasn't he coming here to hire a sailboat off me, and didn't you chase after him, and make him leave on the car? Now he'll likely go to Hank Weston at Edgemere, and hire a boat off him. I lose the trade."

"We're sorry," explained Frank, "but if you noticed that man you saw that he ran as soon he saw us. We didn't say a word to him. He just turned tail and sprinted."

"So I see," grumbled Mr. Hedson, "but I thought maybe you flew some kind of a distress signal."

"We were only too anxious to talk to him," put in Andy. "But he's afraid of us."

"Afraid; why?"

"Well, there's some mystery about him," went on Frank, "and we'd like to discover it. It's connected with a boy whom we saved from a gale." And he told about Paul, and how the man had hastened away that day on the beach. "Do you know anything about him?" finished the elder Racer lad.

"Only this," spoke the boatman, not quite so angry now. "He come to see me yist'day, and asked if I had a sailboat I could hire out for a few days. He said he wanted to go cruising out to sea to bring in a boat of his that was disabled."

"A boat!" interrupted Frank eagerly. "Did he say what kind? Was it a damaged motor boat?"

"He didn't say, and I didn't ask him. I arranged with him to take my Spray and he was to come to-day and get her. Now you see what happened."

"We're sorry to have spoiled your business," spoke Frank regretfully, "but perhaps it's just as well you didn't hire that man your boat. I don't believe he's to be trusted," and he told about the suspicion they had that the stranger had already been seen towing a disabled motor boat with a gasolene craft.

"The question is, where has he left the damaged boat—Paul's boat?" went on Andy. "This thing is getting more and more complicated. Why should he want a sailboat to go out and tow in the motor craft, when he was seen in power vessel yesterday?"

"Maybe whoever owned the power vessel took it away from him," suggested
Frank.

"I wouldn't wonder but what you're right!" exclaimed Jim Hedson, slapping his big pain down on his broad leg. "Now I think of it, I didn't like the looks of that man. He wouldn't look you square in the eye, but kept shifting around. I'm just as glad I didn't hire him my Spray, and I'm sorry I took you fellows up so short. I'll keep a lookout for that man, and if I see or hear anything of him I'll let you know. You're cottaging over Harbor View way; aren't you? I think I've seen you there."

"Yes, we're the Racer boys," replied Frank, "and we'll be obliged to you if you can put us on the track of this man. It isn't so much for our sake, as that we want to find out who Paul Gale is."

"Paul Gale!" exclaimed Mr. Hedson "That's a good name for the lad found as he was. Well, I'll do my best."

"Where to now?" asked Andy, as he followed his brother up the street.

"To the fertilizer factory. I think we can make a deal with them about our whale better by talking than over the telephone."

"We ought to have some of Chet Sedley's fifteen cent perfume if we're going up there," said Andy. "It smells worse than ten skunks on a wet night."

"Oh, well, I guess we can stand it a little while."

The fertilizer factory, where fish, chiefly menhadden, were ground up and treated, before being spread on farms and gardens to enrich them, was not a very delightful place. The boys soon located the manager, who had heard about their whale, and he made them a good offer for it, agreeing to take the carcass away promptly.

Paul improved but slowly, and, as far as his mind was concerned, there was no change. The past was an entire blank to him, and Dr. Martin, as the days passed, shook his head in doubt.

"I'm afraid it's going to take a long time," he said.

"Have you given up hope, Doctor?" asked Mrs. Racer, as she followed him from Paul's room.

"No, not entirely, but I'm disappointed that there is not a glimmer of the past. Perhaps if he could see something or someone connected with his former life it might produce a shock that would start the sluggish brain cells to working. Otherwise I don't know what can be done."

Andy and Frank, in their goings to and fro about the bay in their sailboat, kept a close watch for the mysterious man. But they did not see him. Neither had Jim Hedson heard anything.

"I guess you'll have to give it up," said Paul one night, when, with his chums and Mr. and Mrs. Racer, he was discussing the case. "You better ship me off somewhere. I—I'm afraid I'm becoming a burden to you."

"Not a bit of it!" cried Frank heartily. "Andy and I always wanted another chum, an' now we've got him."

"Don't you feel strong enough to come for sail with us to-morrow?" asked Andy.

"I think so," answered Paul. "Dr. Martin said I could go for a walk to-morrow."

"Then we'll arrange for a sail," decided Frank. "It will do you lots of good."

"But mind, no chasing after whales, dead or alive!" stipulated Mr.
Racer, with a laugh.

"All right," agreed his sons.

Paul soon afterward went to his room. A chamber on the ground floor, with a window opening into the garden had been fitted up for him, to save him the necessity of climbing up and down stairs. It was in this little chamber that, soon afterward, he went to bed, hoping against hope that he might awaken on the morrow with his memory restored.

It was about midnight when Frank, who was a light sleeper, was awakened suddenly by hearing a noise under his window. He occupied the room over Paul.

"I wonder if he's sick?" he thought, as he arose softly. "Perhaps he is, and doesn't want to call anyone. I'll take a look I guess."

Before going down, however, Frank stepped to his window, softly raised the screen, and looked out. As he did so he was startled by a shrill cry from the room below him. It was Paul's voice, and the mysterious lad was crying:

"Get away! Leave me alone! What do you want of me again? Oh, why can't you let me alone!"

"What's the matter?" shouted Frank in alarm.

"That man! He's after me again!" screamed Paul.

Before Frank could leave his window to rush to the aid of the lad below him, he saw a bright light flash out from the casement of the boy who had no memory. In an instant Frank recalled that it must be the portable electric light with which they had furnished the invalid in case he wanted to get up in the night.

Then a movement below him attracted Frank's attention, and he saw a dark figure spring from Paul's window. As this happened the light flashed out once more, and in the glare of it the elder Racer lad saw the countenance of the mysterious man, while Paul called out in fear:

"Oh, don't come near me! Let me alone! I'm afraid of you!"