“We must make it so big that they could not.”
“How make big raft?—no chopper to cut down tree.”
“We must cut down and tie together bundles of canes,” I said, after a long pause, well occupied by thinking. “They will bear us if we lie down upon them. We have a knife; let’s try.”
It was no easy task to get the knife free, for the threads by which it was bound into the split end of the cane had swollen; but it was clear at last, and selecting a suitable spot where the shore was quite a cane brake, we toiled away cutting and tying together bundle after bundle of canes, till we had six which roughly resembled as many big trusses of straw. These we secured to four of the stoutest canes we could find, passing them through the bands crosswise, and after a good deal of difficulty, and at the risk of undoing our work, we managed to thrust it off the bank into the river, where, to my great delight, upon trying it, the buoyancy far exceeded my expectations. In fact, though we could not have stood upon it, lying down it supported us well, and without any hesitation, after cutting a couple of light poles for steering or directing, we thrust off from the side, and began gliding down the stream.
From that moment it seemed as if our troubles were over, for we had little difficulty in keeping well out from the overhanging boughs, while a thrust or two with our poles enabled us to avoid fallen trees and patches of growth rising from the river shallows.
I soon felt convinced that if the bands we had made would hold out, we should have no difficulty in floating down, for I could recall no rapids or falls likely to give us trouble. Certainly we had seen nor heard neither. Our risks were from the collapse of our raft, from the reptiles that we kept seeing from time to time as we glided slowly on, and from the Indians, whom, as I scanned the bank, I expected moment by moment to see start from the dense growth which fringed the sides with a yell.
If we could have felt secure, the ride down the river would have been delightful, for it was all in the bright sunshine, with a wall of the loveliest verdure on either side. Flowers hung in clusters, or sprang from the moist banks; birds flitted here and there, and every now and then some great heron or crane sprang up with flapping wings and harsh cry at being disturbed while fishing.
But every now and then an excited movement on the part of Pomp told me that an alligator was in sight, sunning himself on a shoal, or where he had beaten down the reedy growth as he had crawled out upon the bank.
Such movements on the boy’s part were perilous, the side of the raft going down slowly and steadily, till I forced him to lie still.
“They will not touch us,” I said, “unless we are struggling in the water. Do you want to fall in or upset the raft?”