'That man's still afloat,' Frank shouted as he looked out over the water.
Joe and Biff were making good time but were a long way from the man, who seemed now to be drifting
with the outgoing tide. The explosion victim, fortunately, had managed to seize a piece of wreckage and
was hanging onto it.
Slipping and scrambling, Frank and Chet made their way down the slope. Rocks rolled and tumbled
ahead of them. But finally they reached the bottom safely and examined the boat. It was battered and
old, but evidently still seaworthy. There were two sets of oars.
'Grab hold!' Frank directed Chet.
The boys pulled the boat across the pebbles and into the water. Swiftly they fixed the oars in the locks
and took their places. Pulling hard, Frank and Chet rowed toward the distressed swimmer. Presently
they overtook Joe and Biff, who clambered aboard. The man had seen the boys and called feebly to
them to hurry.
'Faster!' Joe urged. 'He looks as if he'll go under any second!'
The motorboat in the background was still blazing fiercely, flames shooting high in the air. The craft was
plainly doomed.
The boys pulled harder and the rowboat leaped across the water. When it was only a few yards away
from the man, he suddenly let go his hold on the bit of wreckage and slipped beneath the waves.
'He's drowning!' Chet shouted, as he bent to his oar again.
Joe made a tremendously long, outward dive and disappeared into the water where the man had gone
down. Frank and Chet rowed the boat to the spot and leaned over the side to peer down.
Just then, Joe and the stranger broke the surface of the water, with the boy holding an arm under the
man's shoulders. His head sagged.
'He's unconscious!' Biff whispered hoarsely, as he helped pull the victim into the boat. The man sprawled
helplessly on the bottom, more dead than alive.
'We'd better revive him and get him to the hospital,' said Frank.
He applied artificial respiration, forcing a little water from the man's lungs, but the stranger did not regain
consciousness.
'I think he collapsed from exhaustion,' Joe spoke up.
Frank and Chet took off their jackets and wrapped them around the wet figure.
'How about taking him to that farmhouse over there-along the road?' Chet suggested.
The others agreed. As Frank and Chet rowed toward the farm, the boys discussed the mystery. Who
was the victim of the explosion and why had the men in the other motorboat tried to kill him?
The man they had rescued lay face downward in the bottom of the boat. He was a slim, dark-haired man
with sharp, clean-cut features, and his clothes were cheap and worn. Biff looked in his pockets for
identification but found none.
'Wonder if he's a local man,' Joe said. 'Never saw him around town.'
The other boys declared they never had either.
By this time the boat was close to shore. Joe and Biff leaped out and dragged it part way up on the
beach. Then the four boys carried the unconscious man up the rocky shore toward the farmhouse.
At their approach a plump woman came hurrying out of the house. From the orchard nearby a burly man
in overalls came forward.
'My goodness! What has happened?' the woman asked, running toward them.
'We just pulled this man out of the water,' Frank explained. 'We saw your house-'
'Bring him in,' boomed the farmer. 'Bring him right in.'
The woman ran ahead and held the door open. The boys carried the stranger into the house and laid him
on a bed in the comfortably furnished first-floor bedroom. The farmer's wife hastened to the kitchen to
prepare a hot drink.
'Rub his ankles and wrists, and get those wet clothes off him,' the farmer told the boys. 'That will step up
his circulation. I'll get him some pajamas.'
'How about calling a doctor?' Frank asked.
'No need. He'll be okay,' the farmer declared.
The victim was soon under the covers. Frank and Joe continued to massage his wrists and ankles.
At last the stranger stirred feebly. His eyelids fluttered. His lips moved, but no words came. Then his eyes
opened and the man stared at those around him, as though in a daze.
'Where am I?' he muttered faintly.
'You're safe,' Frank assured him. 'You're with friends.'
'You saved me?'
'Yes.'
'Pretty near-cashed in-didn't I?'
'You nearly drowned, but you're all right now. When you feel like talking, you can tell us the whole
story,' said Frank. 'But, in the meantime, we'll call the police or the Coast Guard and report those men
who tried to murder you.'
The man in the bed blinked and looked out the window. Finally he said, 'No, no. Don't do that.'
The boys were shocked. 'Why not?' Joe burst out.
The man was thoughtfully silent for a moment, then said, 'Thanks, but I'd rather let matters stand as they
are. I'll take care of it as soon as I get my strength back.' The rescued man turned to the farmer. 'Okay
with you if I stay here overnight? I'll pay you, of course.'
The farmer put out his hand. 'The name's Kane and you're welcome to stay until you feel strong. Nobody
can say I ever turned a sick man away. And what's your name?'
The patient hesitated a moment. 'Jones. Bill Jones,' he said at last.
It was so evidently a false name that the Hardys glanced knowingly at each other. Mr. Kane did not
seem to realize that his guest was apparently trying to hide his identity.
Mrs. Kane appeared with hot broth and toast. She suggested that her husband and the boys let the
patient rest for a while. When she joined them in the living room she invited the boys to have a snack.
Chet readily accepted for all of them.
The snack consisted of sandwiches of home-cured ham with cheese, glasses of fresh milk, and rich lemon
pie, frothy with meringue. Chet beamed. 'Mrs. Kane, you ought to open a restaurant. I'd be a steady
customer. You're the best pie maker I've ever met.'
Frank, Joe, and Biff chuckled. How often they had heard their stout, food-loving chum make similar
remarks! But in this case they had to agree with him and told Mrs. Kane so.
She smiled. 'It's the least I can do for you boys who just saved someone's life.'
Her young guests said nothing of their early afternoon's adventure inside the Pollitt house, but Frank
casually asked the Kanes if they had known the deceased owner and if anyone were living there now.
'Sure I knew Felix Pollitt,' the farmer replied. 'Closemouthed old codger, but I did hear him once say
somethin' about havin' a no-good nephew. Pollitt said he was his only livin' relative and he supposed he'd
have to leave the property to him.'
'But who'd want the place?' Mrs. Kane spoke up. 'It's falling apart and would cost a mint of money to
fix up.'
Joe grinned. 'Sounds like a haunted house,' he remarked pointedly.
