“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 the 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. “someone 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 livestock 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.”
