“Now,” says he, “we’ll have to have a map of the place where it’s buried, so we won’t forget it or so we can send somebody to get it.”
“Nothing to make a chart of,” says I.
“We’ll find something,” says he.
So we went back to the shanty and nosed around, and inside we found a shingle.
“We can cut a chart on this,” says Catty.
He got out his knife and started to cut. “We’ll make a better one when we escape from this place,” says he, “but this will do to make us remember the number of paces and the directions.”
“Sure,” says I, “and now let’s hit out for town. I’m fed up with this. What I want is a bed and some hot food. Let’s get a hustle on us.”
With that we started out, and we hustled some. It was an hour or more before we got to town, and then we wandered around quite a while before we found our way to the dock.
“However will we get aboard?” says I, as we walked down to the water.
“Don’t know,” says Catty, “but there’ll be some way.”