“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 menhaden, 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’d 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, and now we’ve got him.”