“But this wasn’t out 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.