A gaunt, kindly-faced woman came hurrying out of the house at their approach, and from the orchard near by came a man in overalls. The farmer and his wife had seen them.
“Laws! what’s happened now?” asked the woman, wide-eyed, as they came up to her.
“This man was mighty nearly drowned out in the bay,” explained Frank. “We saw your house—”
“Bring him in,” boomed the farmer. “Bring him indoors.”
The woman ran ahead of them and held the door open. With the farmer giving aid, the boys carried the unconscious man into the house and placed him on a couch in the comfortably furnished living room. The farmer’s wife glanced dubiously at the stream of water that dripped from the victim’s clothes, for she was a tidy soul and she had just scrubbed the floor that morning, but her better nature overcame her housewifely instincts and she hastened out to the kitchen to prepare a hot drink.
“Best rub his hands,” suggested the farmer. He was a burly man with a black beard. “It’ll bring the blood back to his cheeks. One of you take off his boots and we’ll wrap his feet up in warm flannels.”
For the next five minutes the house was a scene of excitement as the farmer and his wife bustled about and the Hardy boys rubbed industriously at the hands and feet of the unconscious man, trying to restore him to consciousness. At last there was a sign of reviving life.
The man on the couch stirred feebly. His eyelids fluttered. His lips moved, but no words came. Then the eyes opened and the man stared at them, as though in a daze.
“Where am I?” he muttered faintly.
“You’re safe,” Frank assured him. “You’re with friends.”