right under the rail.

"I'll take him now," called Andy, as he let go of the tiller, and reached for the lad Frank had saved. With a strong heave Andy got him over the side. He slumped down into the cockpit, unconscious. A moment later Frank clambered on board and quickly untied the rope from his waist.

"Quick, Andy!" he cried. "Mind your helm! We're drifting on the rocks again!"

"Look out for this lad. I'll steer clear!" yelled his brother in reply, as he sprang back the tiller, after hoisting the sail.

Frank lifted the unconscious form in his arms, and moved the wounded lad over to a pile of tarpaulins. With all his strength Andy forced over the tiller, for the wind was strong on the sail, and the waves were running high, their salty crests filling the atmosphere with spume, while a fine spray drenched those aboard the Gull.

Suddenly there was a scraping sound, and the little craft shivered from stem to stern.

"The rocks! The rocks! We're on the rocks!" cried Frank, as with blanched face he looked up from where he was kneeling over the silent form of the lad he had rescued from the sea and the gale.

CHAPTER IV

"WHO ARE YOU?"

For a moment terror held the Racer boys motionless. The danger had come so suddenly that it deprived them of the power to think. Then came the reaction, and they were themselves once more.

"Quick! Throw your helm over! We can just make it!" yelled Frank.
"I'll attend to the sheet—you manage the tiller! Lively now!"

Andy needed no second command. He fairly threw himself at the helm, and with all his strength forced it hard over. The shortened sail rounded out with the pressure of the wind on it, and the Gull heeled over at dangerous angle. Under her keel came that ominous scraping sound that told of her passage over part of the Shark's Teeth.

"It's a submerged rock!" shouted Andy. "We may scrape over it!"

"Let's hope so!" murmured Frank, as he looked hastily down at the unconscious form of the strange lad. Then he gave all his attention to the rope that controlled the end of the swinging boom.

With the same suddenness that it had come upon them, the danger was past. The Gull slid into deep water, and the hearts of the boys beat in glad relief. Rapidly the craft paid off until she was well away from the ugly black points that could be seen, now and then, rearing up amid a smother of foam.

"Round about and beat for home!" yelled Frank. "Whoever this fellow is, he needs a doctor right away. I hope the wind holds out."

"Did you learn who he was?" asked Andy, as he gave his attention to putting the boat on the proper course.

"No. How could I? He was as weak as a cat when I got to him, but he had sense enough not to grab me. He knows how to swim all right, but something is the matter with his left arm."

"Think it's broken?"

"I don't know. It's a wonder he wasn't killed when that boat blew up.
He must have been hurt in some way, or he wouldn't be unconscious."

"Maybe it's because he's nearly drowned. He may be half full of water."

"That's so," agreed Frank. "I'll see what I can do for him while you steer. Make all you can on each tack."

They were fast leaving behind them the wrecked motor boat which bobbed about on the waves. It was no longer on fire, and the brothers would liked to have towed it to the pier, but this was impossible in the storm.

Then, as his brother skillfully managed the sailboat, Frank once more bent over the unconscious form. He knew what to do in giving first aid to partly drowned persons, and lost no time 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 your horse and wagon, Captain? We can never carry him to our house without something like that. Where's the wagon?"

"Bob jest got back from delivering clams in it. I'll go clean it out—the hoss is hitched to it yet, an'——"

"Don't bother to clean it!" interrupted Andy. "Just put some sail cloth in the bottom. It doesn't matter if it's dirty. Every second counts now. Get the wagon."

"Right away!" cried the old sailor, who did a general clamming and fish business. He hurried off in the direction of his store and stable, impressed by the words and energetic actions of the Racer boys. "Hi there, Bob!" the captain called to his son, whom he saw approaching. "Bring Dolly an' the rig here as quick as you can! Frank an' Andy Racer went out an' brought back a dead motor boat—leastways I mean a fellow that was nearly killed in one. Bring up the rig jest as she is! Lively!"

"Aye, aye!" answered Bob, seaman fashion.

A minute later a nondescript vehicle, drawn by a big but bony horse rattled up, driven by the captain's son.

"What's up?" asked Bob Trent of the lads, with whom he was quite friendly. "Who is he?"