They set off directly after breakfast, and took with them their blankets and a supply of food. For they intended to make a half circuit of the island that day, and they figured that night would find them too far away from their camp to make it practical to return.
“We’ll eat and sleep wherever we are when it’s dark,” decided Frank.
Their search that day was as fruitless as before. Not a vestige of the man or boat was to be seen. They made a sort of shelter of driftwood and seaweed before darkness fell, and built a rousing fire in front of it, where they sat and talked until it was time to turn in.
“I don’t like the looks of the weather,” remarked Frank as he wrapped up in his blankets.
“Why not?” his brother wanted to know.
“It looks like rain, and if it does we’re going to get wet.”
“Oh, I guess not,” said the younger lad easily. He never looked for trouble.
It was along toward morning when Frank awoke from a troubled dream that he was standing under a shower bath. He found it to be almost a reality, for it was raining and the water was coming in through the flimsy roof of their shelter.
“What’s the matter?” asked Andy sleepily as he heard his brother moving about.
“It’s raining a flood! I’m drenched and so must you be.”