“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 off 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?”