The tools were in excellent order, and the boys commenced work in fine spirits. At Harold's suggestion they resolved to work very leisurely that day and the next, as being the surest way to attain expedition in the end. Said he,
"My father was a great manager of horses, and sometimes made tremendous journeys. But his rule was always to begin a long journey very moderately. He used to say, 'If you strain a horse at the first, he will move heavily all the way through, but if you spare him at first, he will become gradually accustomed to the strain, and be able to push on faster at the end than at the beginning of the journey!' Now, as we are the horses, I think we had better make very moderate journeys today and tomorrow."
Robert was much pleased with the rule. Notwithstanding his boast, he had shuddered at the idea of blistered hands and weary limbs; but this plan enabled him to anticipate fresh feelings, and even increasing labour, so long as they chose to work.
In the course of four days the second tree was cut, hewed, and excavated to the exact shape and size of the first. They then drew for choices, and separated, each working on his own boat, within hearing of the other's ax and mallet. One reason, perhaps, of the increased rapidity of their work, was a lesson which they learned of employing every moment to advantage, and of resting themselves by a mere change of work. For instance, when weary of the adze they would resort to the mallet and chisel, the auger, ax, or drawing-knife, and this was to some extent a real rest, for fresh muscles were brought into play while the wearied ones were relieved.
By Friday, however, their whole bodies began to feel the effects of fatigue; and Harold proposed, that for that day their arms should be entirely relieved from labour, and that they should search the woods for timber suitable for masts, yards, and oars. They, therefore, took their guns and hatchets, and went first to the orange landing, where they saw their old raft lying as they had left it exactly a month before. Passing thence to the place which they had dubbed "Duck Point," they proceeded along the beach towards their old encampment, and thence home. This was their route; but it was marked by such a variety of useful expedients, that we must stop to describe them.
While Robert was engaged for a few minutes in searching a little grove, Harold saw a fish eagle plunge into the water, and bring out a trout so large that it could scarcely fly with it to the shore. Harold was hungry; his appetite at breakfast had not allowed him to eat at all. Now it began to crave, and the sight of that rich looking fish whetted it, keenly. He ran towards the eagle, crying out,
"I'll divide with you, old gentleman, if you please; that is too much for one."
The eagle, however, appeared to dissent from the proposal, and tried hard to carry its prey into a tree, but apprehensive of being itself caught before it could rise beyond reach, it dropped the fish, and flying to a neighbouring tree, watched patiently to see what share its human robber was disposed to leave.
A fish is easily enough cooked, if a person has fire; but in this case there was none, and what was worse, no apparent means of producing it, for their matches were left behind, and the wadding of their guns was not of a kind to receive and hold fire from the powder.
"Lend me your watch a minute," said Robert, on learning what was wanted. "It is possible that I may obtain from it what you wish."