“We ought to be feeling thankful we passed through all we did without any serious accident,” Thad told him. “This flood may have caught a lot of people not prepared, along the low lands of the river, and I expect to see pig-pens and chicken coops sailing past here to-day.”
“Oh! and if we could only lasso some of those coops, why, we might find a few feathered songbirds inside the same, which would be a great addition to our menu while we’re marooned on this island,” Bumpus suggested gleefully.
“But as we haven’t any rope to use as a lariat,” Thad told him, “I’m afraid that lovely scheme won’t pan out very well. Still, I’m glad to see that you’re awake to the necessity of invention. Thinking up things is going to do anyone lots of good, even if there’s no practical result.”
“But what about the wind, Thad?”
“Still shifting, and going to do the business for this old boat, sooner or later, if it keeps blowing as hard as it is now,” the patrol leader replied.
“I was thinking I’d like to be the first to set foot on the island; not that I’m afraid, I hope you’ll believe, Thad; but just from a sort of sentimental reason, you know.”
“Well, chances are we’ll all be doing it pretty soon, Bumpus; so if you really want to, go ahead,” Thad told him, keeping a straight face while speaking, but at the same time much amused, for he knew that despite the solemn protest of his companion Bumpus was very uneasy.
Ten minutes later and Giraffe called out:
“Say, what d’ye think, fellows, we’ve been left in the lurch. Bumpus has deserted us, and is camped ashore right now, spread his blanket out on a log, and is sitting there like the king of the cannibal island. He must have felt the boat getting wobbly, and thought he’d make sure not to be in the last rush when she broke away.”
“I told him to go ashore,” Thad informed them; “and I guess the rest of us would be wise to follow his example. So get your stuff and come on, the whole lot of you.”