"We can try," responded Phil. "We ain't got much else to do. Gracious, ain't I glad I ain't alone."
"So am I," was my warm rejoinder. "We'll live or die together."
"I ain't much afraid of dying, now you are with me."
Planting the oar for a mast was no easy matter. Of course we did not attempt to do it until we had made the boom, and also a small crosstree at the top, from which we suspended the sail, not very artistically, it is true, but in such a fashion that it drew very well.
"There we are!" cried Phil, when the task was accomplished. "What's the matter with that?"
"Nothing," I replied. And then added with a laugh:
"Let us go into a firm: Jones & Foster, Boat-builders and Sailmakers."
Phil laughed heartily.
"You're right! I'm glad it's up. It looks more like a regular boat now."
"It will act as a signal as well as a sail," I replied, "and we need both."