"But not exactly safe in tropical countries," objected the captain. "I hope we can construct some kind of a house. If we can't we'll have to make the best of it, though, for we haven't any tools to work with, except knives."
They started to make a circuit of the island. It was not very large, being about two miles across. The center was thickly wooded with tropical growth, and the captain was glad to note that there were several varieties of good fruit, including a number of cocoanut trees.
"If worst comes to worst we can make a hut of cocoanut leaves," he said. "The natives often do that."
"Oh, dear! I hope there are no cannibals here," said Mr. Tarbill at the mention of the word natives. "Suppose they should eat us up?"
"They'd have to fight first," observed the captain grimly. "I'll not be eaten without a struggle."
"But I never fought a cannibal in my life," objected the nervous castaway. "I shouldn't know how to go about it."
"No more would I, but I'd soon learn. But don't think about such things, Mr. Tarbill."
"I can't help it. I wonder how long it will be before we are rescued?"
"That is a grave question," said the captain slowly. "I fear this island is too far out of the regular course of ships to hope that we will be picked up soon. We must make some kind of a distress signal and hoist it where it will be seen. We'll do that as soon as we have completed the circuit of the island."
It was long past noon, to judge by the position of the sun, when they had circled the island and again reached the place where Bob had built the fire. They had seen no signs of natives, nor any of animals, though there might be small beasts.