"Well, we have got to get to the mainshore somehow, Fred. Remember, our folks must be dreadfully worried about us, and then that baseball game——"
"That's it! We must get back in time for that game by all means! I wouldn't miss it for a farm."
"If some sailboat chanced to come past the island we might hail those on board."
"Do you know of any place where we would be likely to pick up a rowboat, or an old canoe?"
"No, but I know where we can pick up a few logs," added Joe, suddenly. "We might build a raft and ferry ourselves over to the mainland."
"Then let us do that."
Both were hungry, but the most they could find to eat were a few huckleberries. Had they had time they would have gone fishing for food, but just now every moment seemed precious.
Joe led the way along the shore, and it was not long before they came in sight of half a dozen logs, which the waves and wind had washed up during the Spring freshet.
"We ought to be able to build a raft with these," said Fred. "The trouble is, we haven't any nails."
"Run back and get those ropes you had around you, Fred. I'll cut some good, strong vines and branches," answered Joe.