me in going through the
motions designed to rid the lungs of water.

Frank did succeed in getting some fluid from the system of the
stranger, but the lad still remained unconscious, with such a pale
face, with tightly closed eyes, and showing such apparent weakness,
that Andy remarked:

"I guess he's done for, poor fellow!"

"I'm not so sure of that," responded Frank "He's still breathing, and
there's a spark of life in him yet. We must get him to our house, and
have a doctor right away. Oh! now's the time I wish we had a motor
boat!"

"We're doing pretty well," declared Andy, And indeed the _Gull_ was
skimming along at a rapid rate. She was quartering the wind, until a
sudden lull in the gale came. They hung there for a moment or two, and
the brothers looked anxiously at each other. Were they to be becalmed
when it was so vitally necessary to get the stranger to a doctor
immediately?

But once more the sail swelled out, and with joy the Racer boys noticed
that the wind was now right astern and that they could run down to the
dock on the wings of it, making an almost straight course.

"This is the stuff!" cried Frank, as he made a sort of pillow from some
sail cloth for the sufferer's head.

"It sure is. We'll be there soon. You'd better get some of your
clothes on before we land."

Frank slipped on his garments, over his wet underwear and trusted to
the wind to dry him before reaching home.

"I wonder who he can be?" mused Andy. "He wears good clothes, and if
he owns that wrecked motor boat he must have money, for it was a big
one, and cost a lot."

"It sure did. Well, we may find out who he is when he comes to, after
the doctor has seen him. We'll take him up to our house."

"Of course. There's no other place for him in Harbor View. We'll be
at the dock in five minutes more."

The rest of the trip was quickly covered, and, a little later, the two
brothers had run their craft right up to the float, made her fast and
began lifting out the unconscious form of the lad they had saved.

"Avast there! What ye got?" cried the hearty voice of Captain Trent.
"Is he dead? Who is he?" He peered down over the pier railing.

"We don't know," answered Frank to both questions. "He was in a motor
boat--wrecked--it blew up--we saved him."

"By Davy Jones! Ye don't mean it! Wa'al, I'll give you a hand."

With the old salt's aid the boy was soon lifted up to the pier. Then
Frank asked:

"Where's