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“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 to 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?”
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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.