Meanwhile Frank and Andy had made diligent inquiries about the wrecked boat, but had heard nothing. Nor was there any news of the whale.
"Of course I don't intend to go out after him, when dad and mom don't want us to," Andy carefully explained to his brother, "but it does no harm to ask; does it?" and he laughed joyously.
"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 on 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.