me find my father," went on Joe. "You don't know how it feels, Blake, to know you've got a parent somewhere and not be able to locate him. It's—why, it's almost as bad as if—as if he were dead," and Joe spoke the words with an obvious effort.
"That's right," agreed Blake, and then there came to him the memory of what the lighthouse keeper had said about Mr. Duncan being implicated in the wrecking. If this was true, it might be better for Joe not to find his father.
"But he may not be guilty," thought Blake, and he mused on this possibility, while Joe looked curiously at his chum.
"Say, Blake," suddenly asked Joe. "What's the matter?"
"Matter? Why, what do you mean?" asked Blake, with a start.
"Oh, I don't know, but something seems to be the matter with you. You've acted strangely of late, ever since—yes, ever since we were at the lighthouse. Is anything troubling you?"
"No—no—not at all; that is, not exactly."
"You don't speak as if you meant it."
"But I do, Joe. There's nothing the matter with me—really there isn't."
"Well, I'm glad of it. If there is, and you need help, don't forget to come to me. Remember
