"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.
"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 Icouldremember."
"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—PaulGale—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!"
"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 theGull. 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 theGull. 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. TheGullheaded 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," declaredFrank, 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."
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 theGull, 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 theGullto 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 theGull. 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 SouthAmerica, 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," calledFrank. "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 theGull.
"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," orderedFrank. "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 presentI 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.
"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.
"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 toAndy, 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.