For a moment there was silence in the room, and something like a disappointed sigh came from Frank and his brother. Andy leaned over the bed.

“Who are you?” he asked, placing his hand on the head of the lad. “Can’t you tell us who you are, or where you live? We want to help you. How did you come to be in the boat alone? How did it get on fire?”

There was no response.

“It is useless to question him,” said Dr. Martin. “I will give him some medicine, now that he is partially restored to consciousness, and perhaps when he is stronger he can tell who he is. In the meanwhile it will be best not to bother him.”

The boys took this as a hint that they had better leave the room, so the three of them filed silently out to permit of the physician and Mrs. Racer continuing their efforts to bring the lad out of the stupor into which he had fallen.

“It’s a queer case,” mused Frank.

“It sure is,” agreed his brother. “I hope he doesn’t die before we find out who he is, or where he belongs.”

“I hope he doesn’t die at all,” put in his brother quickly.

“Oh, of course,” assented Frank. “So do I.”

“Could you make out any name on the motor boat?” inquired Bob.

“Didn’t have a chance,” answered the older Racer lad. “Andy and I had our hands full managing our boat, and, when I went overboard I had to depend on Andy to pull that lad and me back. The sea was fierce and it was blowing great guns. All I know is that it was a fine boat, and it’s a shame it was wrecked on the Shark’s Teeth.”

“She’ll go to pieces if she stays there long,” was Bob’s opinion. “The bottom will be pounded out of her and she’ll go down.”

“Your father was right about the storm coming up,” said Frank, after a pause. “I never saw it blow so hard in such a short time.”

“Oh, dad can generally be depended on for a weather guess,” said the son proudly. “Well, I must be getting back. Got to put on another load of clams before supper. Let me know how that chap makes out, will you?”

“Sure,” assented Frank. “And if you see or hear anything of that motor boat up or down the coast, let us know. Maybe we can save it, and find out something about this boy from it, in case he isn’t able to tell.”

“I’ll do it,” promised the captain’s son.

“And if you see a wounded whale, it belongs to us,” added Andy.

“A wounded whale?” gasped Bob. “Are you stuffing me? This isn’t Thanksgiving.”

“It was a whale all right,” went on Andy, playfully poking his brother in the ribs, “and it stove in my boat. If I could catch the beggar I’d sell his hide or oil or whatever is valuable about him, and get a new boat.”

“Does he mean it?” asked Bob, turning to Frank, for the younger Racer lad was well known for his practical jokes and his fun-loving characteristics.

“Yes, we did get rammed by one just before we went out in the Gull,” said Frank, a bit solemnly, for the events of the past few hours had made quite an impression on him. Then he briefly told the story of the monster’s attack.

“We didn’t say anything to your father about it when we came in,” explained Andy, “as we didn’t want to be delayed. But if you see or hear of that whale, don’t forget he belongs to us.”

“I won’t,” declared Bob. “Now I’ve got to hustle, as it’s almost supper time.”

“Supper!” cried Andy. “That reminds me, we haven’t had dinner yet, Frank.”

“My stomach reminded me of that some time ago,” declared the brother. “We had such a strenuous time that it slipped our minds, I guess. But I’m going to make up for it now. So long, Bob; see you later.”

“So long.”

Then, as the rickety wagon was driven away Frank and Andy went in the house to change their wet garments.

The two brothers were tiptoeing their way to the room where the wounded lad lay, having first ascertained from Mary, the cook, that supper would soon be ready, when they saw Dr. Martin coming from the apartment.

“Is he better?” asked Frank in a whisper.

“Yes,” and the doctor smiled. “I succeeded in fully restoring him to consciousness, and he is now sleeping quietly. I have given him a powder and it will be some time before he awakens. He is worn out, in addition to being injured.”

“Is he badly hurt?” Andy wanted to know. “Is his arm broken?”

“No, only severely sprained. In addition, he has several big bruises and a number of cuts where he must have been tossed against the rocks. His hands are burned slightly, but there is nothing dangerous, and with care he ought soon to recover.”

“He must have gotten burned trying to put out the fire on the boat,” commented Frank. “But, Dr. Martin, did you learn anything about him? What’s his name? Where does he belong? What was he doing near the Shark’s Teeth in a gale?”

“I can’t answer any of your questions,” replied the physician gravely. “I asked the lad who he was, thinking that his people would be worried, and that I might be able to send some word to them. But, though he was fully in his senses, and seemed to realize what he had gone through, I couldn’t get a word out of him about his name.

“When I asked him, as I did several times, and as also did your mother, he would begin, ‘I am—’ Then he would stop, pass his hand across his forehead, and look puzzled. He did this a number of times, and it seemed to pain him to try to think. So I gave it up.”

“How do you account for that?” asked Andy.

“Well, the fright and injuries he received may have caused a temporary loss of memory,” replied the doctor. “Or there may be some injury to the brain. I can’t decide yet. But I’ll look in again this evening. He’ll be much improved by then, I am sure.”

“It’s getting queerer and more queer,” commented Andy, as the physician hastened away in his car. “Think of forgetting who you are, Frank!”

“It sure is too bad. We must try to help him. That motor boat would be a clue, I think. As soon as the weather gets better, and this storm blows over, we’ll have a search for it.”

“Yes, we’re in for a hard blow, I think. It’s a worse gale now than when we were out.”

The wind, which had momentarily died out, had sprung up again with the approach of night, and it began to rain. Out on the bay, a view of which could be had from their house, the boys could see big tumbling billows.

“It’s a good night to be home,” mused Frank. “I’m afraid we’ll never see that wrecked motor boat again. It will pound to pieces on the Shark’s Teeth.”

“Very likely. Well, let’s go in and see how much nearer supper is ready. Dad’s home now.”

It was rather a long and dreary night, with the storm howling outside, and Frank, who had the last watch, was not sorry when the gray daylight came stealing in. The unidentified lad had slept soundly, only arousing slightly once or twice.

“We must have a nurse for him,” Mrs. Racer decided, when she and her husband, together with the boys, had talked the case over at the breakfast table. “Poor lad, he needs care. He looks as if he came from good people—a refined family—don’t you think so, Dick?” and she turned to her husband.

“Oh, yes, he seems like a nice lad. Get a nurse if you can, and have the best of everything. And I don’t want you boys tackling any more whales,” Mr. Racer added decidedly, as he gazed at his sons a bit sternly.

“No, indeed!” their mother hastened to add. “I should have died of nervousness if I had known they went out again, after that dreadful fish smashed Andy’s boat.”

“A whale’s an animal, not a fish, mother,” said the younger lad as he gave her a kiss. “We are going to capture that one and sell its oil.”

“Don’t you dare venture whale-hunting again, or we’ll go straight back to New York, and that will be the end of your vacation,” she threatened.

“That’s right,” added Mr. Racer. “Don’t forget. Well, I must be off or I’ll miss my boat,” and he hurried away to his New York office.

There was quite an improvement in the condition of the mysterious youth that day, and, with the arrival of the nurse, the Racer boys and their mother were relieved from the care of him, though one or the other of them paid frequent visits to the sick room.

“He’s doing nicely,” said Dr. Martin on the third day. “He is out of danger now.”

“And still not a word to tell who he is?” spoke Frank.

“No,” said the doctor musingly, “he talks intelligently on every subject but that. He remembers nothing of his past, however. He doesn’t even seem to know that he was out in a motor boat. All he can recall is that he was in some kind of trouble and danger, and that he was saved. He knows that you boys saved him, and he is very grateful.”

“And he doesn’t know a thing about himself?” asked Andy wonderingly.

“Not a thing. It is as if he was just born, or as if he came to life right after the wreck. He has some dim memory of being in a big city, and of looking for some man, but who this man is seems to be as mysterious as who he himself is. So I have given up questioning him for the present as it distresses him.”

“Will he ever recover his mind?” asked Mrs. Racer anxiously.

“Well, such cases have been known,” replied the doctor. “Perhaps in time, with rest and quietness, it may all come back to him as suddenly as it left him. But what are your plans in regard to him?”

“He is to stay here, of course, until he recalls something of himself,” said Mrs. Racer decidedly. “Then he may be able to tell us who his people are.”

“And if that should take—say all summer?” The doctor looked at her questioningly.

“If we have to take him back to New York with us in the fall, we’ll do it,” went on the mother of Frank and Andy.

“Perhaps the city sights may recall him to himself,” suggested Frank.

“Perhaps,” agreed Dr. Martin. “Well, I’ll stop in again to-morrow.”

The next day, and the next, however, saw very little change. The lad grew much stronger, so that he could sit up in bed, but that was all. The past remained as dark as before. Yet he was intelligent, and could talk on ordinary topics with ease, and with a knowledge that showed he had been well educated. But even his name was lost to him. They looked in the newspapers but saw no mention of a lost boy.

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 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?”

Frank and Andy looked at each other quickly. At last they seemed on the track of the mystery.

“Was he a tall, dark lad, with black hair?” asked Frank.

“Yes—yes, that’s the boy I’m looking for!” exclaimed the man quickly.

“And was the motor boat a long one, painted white with a green water line, and with the engines forward under a hood?” added Andy.

“Yes!” eagerly cried the man, in his excitement taking hold of Andy’s coat. “That’s the boat! Where is it? I must have it!”

“She’s wrecked,” said Frank quickly. “We saw her on the Shark’s Teeth, going to pieces, and we’ve been looking for her since, but the boy—”

“Yes—yes! The boy—the boy! What of him? Where is Paul—?”

The man stopped suddenly, and fairly clapped his hand over his own lips to keep back the next word. He seemed strangely confused.

“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.”

“No—no! I must go! I must go. I—I don’t know any Paul,” and before the Racer boys could have stopped him, had they been so inclined, the man wheeled about and walked rapidly down the beach.