“Well, let’s try looking for him ashore a while, and if that doesn’t amount to anything, I’ll go sailing with you,” suggested the younger brother.
To this Frank agreed; and for several days he and his brother went from one seacoast settlement to another, making inquiries. Nothing, however, came from them. They spent much time riding back and forth on the electric car line, hoping they might unexpectedly meet the mysterious man there, but he kept out of their way as if he knew they were on his trail.
“Well, now for a sailing cruise!” exclaimed Frank, one morning, and Andy announced that his theory had been tried and found wanting. The brothers wanted to take Paul, but he was not well enough, so, having taken along a supply of provisions, if they should be becalmed and kept out all night, as was sometimes the case, they set sail, beating up along the coast.
There was a fair wind, that freshened at noon, but which died out toward evening, and finally there settled over the ocean a dead calm.
“It’s us out for all night, unless you can whistle up a wind,” said Frank grimly.
“We’ll both try,” proposed Andy, and they whistled all the tunes they knew, but without avail.
Then, having lighted their lamps, and cooked a supper on the oil stove in the small galley, they prepared to spend the night at sea. They had often done it before, for their craft was a staunch one, and as they had said at home that they might be detained, they knew their folks would not worry.
They stood watch and watch, of several hours at a stretch, and Frank was on duty when the gray and misty night began to be dispelled by the rosy sun rising from the water. As he glanced across the slowly-heaving billows, something in the very path of Old Sol’s smiling beams caught his eye.
It was a sailboat, somewhat larger than the Gull, but it was not the sight of the craft itself that attracted Frank’s attention. It was something trailing behind.
“Andy! Andy, come up here!” called the elder Racer lad.