“Where is it?”
“Right here. We took it in tow.”
“That’s good. The thing got away from me, and I didn’t expect ever to see it again. You see, the wind drove me straight ashore here, and I was mighty glad to get ashore, too. When I grabbed my paddle and jumped out, and then turned around to pick up my canoe, why, it was like the Irishman’s flea—when I put my hand on it, it wasn’t there.”
“What did you do, Ben?” inquired Bert.
“Do? I didn’t do anything. The wind blew so I thought it was going to tear up the very island itself. I hid myself behind the rocks, and waited. When the storm had passed I began to look about to see how I was to get away from my desert island. I travelled around it three times, as I told you, but I couldn’t find any way of getting off, and I’d about made up my mind I’d have to spend the night here, when I discovered three men in a boat, and hailed them.”
“Did you know who we were?”
“No; and I didn’t care. All I wanted was to be taken off.”
“We’ll take you now,” said Jock. “Come along; it’s getting dark.”
“I’ll take my canoe, if you please,” said Ben, glibly.
“Ben, you’re not going to paddle back to camp in that cockle-shell to-night?” exclaimed Jock, aghast at the proposal. “I should think you’d had enough of it for one night. Come along and be civilized, and take your place at the oars in the skiff, like a little man.”