Читать книгу The Racer Boys; Or, The Mystery of the Wreck онлайн

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“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?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” spoke Frank. “We may find out if he doesn’t die. We’ve no time to spare.”

They lifted the unconscious form into the wagon, on the bottom of which had been spread a number of old sails.

“I’ll drive,” said Bob briefly. “I can get more out of Dolly than most folks. You’ve got to do your best now, old girl,” he called to the horse. The animal pricked up her ears.

“I’ll ride in back and hold his head,” volunteered Frank. “Andy, you go telephone for Dr. Martin. Tell him to get to our house as soon as possible—explain why. Have him there by the time we arrive, if possible.”

“Right!” cried Andy sharply, and he raced off toward the nearest telephone, there being a few of the instruments in Harbor View.

“Wa’al, I’ll be jib-boomed!” exclaimed Captain Trent, as his son drove off, the horse making good time. “Them Racer boys is allers up to suthin’ or other.”