he is!" declared Mr. Kane with conviction.
"I guess we had better be getting back home. Do you mind keeping him here? We can have him moved to a hospital."
The farmer shook his head.
"Smuggler or not, he stays here until he gets better. Nobody ever said Bill Kane turned a sick man out of doors, and nobody ever will. He stays here until he gets better."
"We'll come back in a day or so and see how he is getting along," Joe promised.
"He'll have the best of care here. Whether it's smugglin' or not that he's been mixed up in, it doesn't matter. My wife and I will look after him."
The Hardy boys arranged to have the rowboat returned to its mooring place, then took their leave of the good-hearted farmer and his wife and made their way out to the road. Then they went back to the place where they had left their motorcycles, and in a short while were speeding again on their return to Bayport.
"That fellow is certainly a queer stick," remarked Joe, as he and his brother motored toward home.
"I'll say he is!" answered Frank. "There's something mighty queer about all this, and don't you forget it!"
It was mid-afternoon when they turned their motorcycles into the driveway beside the Hardy
