"We rescued the boy, and he is up at our house," said Frank quickly. "We have been trying to pick up the wreck of the boat and learn who the boy is. He has lost his memory."
"Lost his memory!" the man exclaimed, and he actually appeared glad of it.
"Yes, he doesn't remember even his name," explained the elder Racer lad. "But now we can solve the mystery as you know him. You say his name is Paul. What is his other name? Who are you? Don't you want to see him? We can take you to him—to Paul."
The brothers eyed the man eagerly. On his part he seemed to shrink away.
"I—I made a mistake," he said, biting his nails. "I know no one named Paul. I—I—it was an error. That is not the boy I want. I must hurry on. Perhaps I shall get some news at the next settlement. I am—obliged to you."
His shifty eyes gazed at the brothers by turns. Then the man suddenly turned away muttering something under his breath.
"But you seemed to know him!" insisted Frank, feeling that the mystery was deepening.
"No—no! I—I made a mistake. His name is not Paul. I am wrong.
That is—well, never mind, I'm sorry to have troubled you."
He was about to hurry away.
"Won't you come and see him?" urged Frank. "It is not far up to our house. My mother would be glad to meet you. Perhaps, after all, this lad may be the one you seek. His name may be Paul."